


Through the Seeing Glass

by Sylaise (Auds_Dods)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sexual Content, Solas deserves to be happy, dang nabbit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 158,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auds_Dods/pseuds/Sylaise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mythal has never been one to leave things to...chance. She takes fate into her own hands, and crafts for herself, and Thedas, the perfect Inquisitor. The only catch is, a perfect Inquisitor is hard to find. Thankfully, an Eluvian will solve that problem, for worlds are such fragile things, and the bonds between them are broken so easily. There, in a world alive with electric energy, Mythal finds her perfect Inquisitor--and she is going to change <i>everything</i>. Perhaps a happy ending really <i>is</i> possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reader-centric fic, but I use 1st Person POV to better facilitate that. This way, she looks however you imagine her to look. Later on, she names herself "Fen" (after Fen'Harel), BUT! If enough of you don't like that name, let me know and I will remove it. I wrote this with the singular intention of (well, having fun but really) giving Solas a happy ending. He deserves some joy, and to not be alone. Let's make sure that fear of his never comes to pass, shall we?
> 
> * _Fen’Harel enansal_ : said to activate an eluvian

“Fucking Egg,” I muttered under my breath as I stared at the screen with bleary eyes. Every _single_ _time_ , he walked away from my Inquisitor, and every single time, some small part of me hoped he wouldn’t—that maybe this time, for whatever inexplicable reason, he would turn and take Lavellan into his arms before kissing her passionately. “Fucking. Egg,” I reiterated, saving the game and exiting. “Make out with me, for fuck’s sake.” I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, scratching at my scalp as I did. I had been exhausted all day. I hit the power button and yawned widely. Egad, what time was it? I rubbed my eyes and looked at the digital alarm clock a few feet away. Well after midnight, the red numbers blazed at me. So much for my regular sleeping schedule. I kicked off my slippers, and somehow found myself stumbling into my bed. The sheets were old but clean, and smelled like fresh fabric softener mixed with the subtle scent of my skin. It was a comforting combination. I checked my phone, one eye already closed, made sure my alarm was set, and then committed myself to at least six hours of slumber.

Sleep had always been somewhat difficult for me, especially since puberty had kicked in however many years ago. But these last few weeks…well, almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out so deeply and soundly that I had slept through my alarm three times in the last week alone. I would wake each morning knowing that I had dreamed, but never recalling of what…just left with the impression of color, and warmth. Such incredible warmth…And yet, despite this deep rest, each day I seemed to wake up more tired than the last. It was odd, to say the least.

As I felt my consciousness slip out of my body and into the night, I knew, I just _knew_ , that tonight was going to be no different. I took one last, deep, seeking breath and then was gone. As I fell through the layers of sleep and dream, I had the oddest thought: s _he’s waiting for me_. All went black and in that blackness, I saw a face. It was smiling such a smug smile. I knew that face. I had seen it so many times now…in my dreams? It must have been…it couldn’t…And I was lost to dream.

 

**~**

 

Time was a strange thing, She thought somewhat distantly as She regarded the human girl. She had been drawn to the girl now, night after night, for what seemed to be mere weeks in her linear time line, but for Her, had been months if not years. It had taken so very long, and She had voyaged so far, yet it was only time before She found a world where Hers might overlap—though in the most unexpected way. It was too late to alter this course—the orb was gone. And yet…if She had learned nothing from the hours spent analyzing this…game (the word tasted of vitriol) as various humans played it, over and over, it was that She was going to need the perfect Inquisitor to guide the outcome of this catastrophic event. So much was out of Her control, and going to continue to be out of Her control; She needed someone who would lead events the way they should be led.

And then She had found her. She made the effort, no matter how often she played the game (and She had seen her defeat Corypheus and begin anew countless times now), to save each and every person—to help each and every side character possible. And whenever it was possible, she let her enemies live. She needed someone who knew the value of life. It was so simple a thing to take away and yet so impossible to return. This was only a game to her, but She hoped she would understand that still when She…

She had wondered what had drawn Her to her at first, out of the thousands of humans playing this game—why her? And then She had realized. In this world without magic, empty and cold as a dead sea, She had felt the stirrings of power within her. That was, by all accounts, impossible. No one had magic here, not in any real capacity. And yet, there it was—a soft sort of energy, pulsing in her chest. Once She noticed it, it was impossible not to see. It seemed somehow tied to her imagination. Whenever she played, it flared bright, washing over Her presence in warmth and…some feeling She could not readily define, not at first. She glowed, and She began to see that she glowed especially whenever the Wolf was on the screen. That was when She began to listen to her as well as to the game.

By the blood of the earth, her language was foul. It made Her like the girl even more. Every battle, a stream of expletives would flow past her lips as she stared at the screen, a small crease between her brows. After each victory, no matter how many times she had beaten a particular foe, she would always caw with pride. Her bright eyes would light up and she would spin in her chair, singing something by a band She understood to be named “Queen.” It was most diverting. And she had the strange habit of referring to the Wolf as, “Egg.” At first, She had no idea why she kept saying the word. She used it as an expletive, and She wondered what kind of a world this was that eggs were viewed with such distaste. It had taken Her two days of listening to realize that she was, in fact, referring to _him_. Well, it had been his own decision to shave his head. A sign of penitence, She assumed. He had taken so much pride in his hair before; perhaps that was why now he chose to go without. His one humility, She supposed, and hard learned. And after this still, She had realized that she spent an inordinate amount of time courting him, or rather, the imitation of him. She played as other characters, as various “classes,” but she would always go back to a female elf, and romance that Wolf. She flared the brightest whenever her Lavellan character and his imitation would kiss. It made Her feel…uncomfortable. She wondered, briefly, what would happen to the girl’s heart.

She cut off that train of thought. When She first came to this realization, She thought perhaps She ought to find another. And She had sought. Months, years, She couldn’t say. No one else had that glow within them; no one else had the breath of magic in their soul. Not the way she did, not that She could find. Others had smaller glows, some glowed in similar strength, but invariably there was a flaw; this one chose Templars over Mages; that one took too great a joy in the destruction, in killing; one refused to let Morrigan drink from the Well; another giggled at everything as he smoked some foul smelling herb, and She quickly found She had little tolerance for excessive, unprovoked laughter. It reminded her of a certain Warden…When She did find others who would do, who made the correct decisions and for the right reasons, their glow was never satisfactory. She thought, not for the first time, that that spark of magic inside these individuals was somehow tied to imagination. This unique group of people would often stare into space, dreaming with their eyes open; they would create some form of art, with words, with pencils, with those strange machines, with fantasy in their own minds (perhaps the most brilliant of all); they would inevitably think of rich character histories for these Inquisitors they crafted, histories the “game” did not provide. Imagination. She did not know if She could bring someone over without it. And that was precisely what She intended to do: bring an Inquisitor over. She could not have someone burdened by family, by friends or past lovers, who might allow those biases to compromise their decision making. She needed someone new. She needed someone good, someone familiar with the outcome of this particular tale, who would know what to do, to save as many as possible. Someone to craft the story the way She wanted. And She knew it could not be the Wolf, despite the fact that he had started this particular ball rolling. She knew him well enough to know that he would not take the time to help the people as thoroughly as he ought. If he had the mark, he would head straight to the Fade, to fix the mess he had begun eons ago. And then he would lament those lost who might have been saved. It would be an endless loop.

And that was unacceptable. The people had to be saved. She had then sought the makers of this…game, hoping against hope that one of them might fit. Who else, She supposed, would know the story better? But when She had found them, the glow that consumed them was too great. That amount of power struck a moment of fear in Her. What if She brought one of them over, and they became a god? The last thing this world needed was a new god, a new powerful being holding infinite sway over the people. She was sick to death of gods and Creators and Makers.

So She came back to her. She came back to her and began the process, in her tiny little apartment, littered with art, poems and stories she had crafted in her mind’s eye. It would take time, yes, but time was such a strange thing. In the Fade, a year might be an hour, a moment, a day, in the waking world. The same was true for dreams, and She had been making sure that she had such deep dreams. Tonight was the night, the night that she would make the journey. Enough of her spirit was here already for her to come fully through. She rested Her forehead against the eluvian, seeing her through the glass.

She watched her as she played the game, watched as the pale imitation of the Wolf turned away from her Lavellan and broke her heart. The girl’s face was dejected, as it was every time. It would only be the beginning of that heart break.

‘If it hurts you so, Child,’ She whispered, voice not even a breath on the girl’s ear, ‘then why do you persist in trying to attain that which you know you will not have?’

“Fucking. Egg,” she said, as she so often seemed to. She smiled, unable to stop Herself. She did not speak often when she was playing, aside to curse during battles, or to berate the Wolf with the word, “Egg,” and She was amused at the nature of her response. Well…it wasn’t truly a response. She couldn’t, after all, hear Her.

“Fucking. Egg,” she said again, looking frustrated and sad. Her smile quickly faded. To find amusement at her pain, no matter how strange the source, was unkind. “Just make out with me, for fuck’s sake.”

That…was unexpected. Her glow became bright, brighter than the perigee moon. There was a moment when her thoughts were as clear to Her as river rocks sparkling beneath crystalline water. She wanted him to be ‘real,’ to be tangible in this world. When she had spoken, she hadn’t meant as her Inquisitor. She wanted _him_.

No. This was wrong. How could She do this? How could She rip this girl into pieces, as She now _fully_ understood She was going to do?

She watched the girl child slide into bed, still in her clothes from the day, too tired to remove them. She watched her check a small mobile device called a phone. She watched her close her eyes and fall into the deep sleep that came whenever She was too close to her. She had pulled her into dreams so often, now whenever She was near, she would begin to fall asleep. She wanted to look away from her. She wanted to let her go. But She could not. If She could not look at what She was going to do, She had no right to do it. She had to face Her decisions.

The child would not be waking up in this bed again. Not for a long time, perhaps not ever. She pulled a deep breath into her lungs, and touched the eluvian. “ _Fen’Harel enansal_ ,” She whispered huskily, Her fingertips brushing the surface of the glass. It rippled beneath Her skin.


	2. The Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all elvish in this fanfiction is possible thanks to fenxshiral's elvish sentence structure notes and the elven language page on the dragon age wiki. Go check out fenxshiral's extensive work, if you haven't already. http://fenxshiral.tumblr.com/

**The Dawn**

 

My sleep was…unsettling. I had felt like I was falling through, I dunno, time I guess? Like Alice in Wonderland, drifting through invisible veils like cobwebs ghosting across my skin, making it tingle and twitch. I felt the atmosphere distort around me, stretch so thin I knew I could push my fingertips through it, like the skin of water. This made me acutely aware of the fact that _I had no hands_. I panicked a moment, felt fear rise like suffocating heat to choke me. I tried to breathe, realized I had no lungs, and felt the panic seize me fully.

‘ _Calm_ ,’ a voice said, so close and so deep and raspy. Calm rushed through me like a cool breeze brushing past curtains, billowing and soft. I could breathe. I was breathing. My fingers were tingling. I had fingers; I had hands and arms and legs. I was still whole. A laugh, warm as silk in summer, rippled across my all-too sensitive skin.

“By the Dread Wolf,” I gasped, trying to reach out and feel my companion. “Where am I?”

The presence that I felt beside me stilled instantly. The amusement died and was replaced by regret, tinted with sorrow. I could feel the emotions hover just outside of myself. Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. I tried to reach out again, to find the hand of my companion, but the moment I did, the stillness that I had felt building around me broke, and once again I was rushing through time, space, dimension, I had no idea. Once again I was Alice. Pressure was building; I could feel it because I could still feel my body. Everything was growing heavy; I hadn’t realized I had been weightless until that weightlessness was replaced by that incredible pressure. This must have been what astronauts felt like, returning home from space. Or deep sea divers maybe, when they surfaced after exploring the ocean’s stillness.

‘ _Calm_ ,’ the voice said again. ‘ _Remain calm. Everything will normalize again shortly. I am here to protect you, and to keep you safe_.’

“ _Flemeth_?” I asked, incredulous. It couldn’t be. But then, yes, it could. I was dreaming, after all.

‘ _I suppose there is no harm in answering_ ,’ she said, a smile evident in her voice, ‘ _as you will not remember any of this. I am sorry, Child, for what you are about to undergo._ ’

My heart flipped in my chest and I had to swallow before I could find my voice again, which was odd considering the fact that I was pretty damn sure I didn’t have a body at the moment, despite the fact that I could _feel_ my body. “ _Aneth ara, Hah’ren. Ar somniar dirth in ma_.” I stumbled over the words, searching my memory for the correct ones. I was by no means an expert, and was somewhat certain that I had butchered the, ‘Greetings, wise one. I have wanted to speak with you,’ I had attempted to say.

Her snort in retort was delayed. ‘ _I think I understand what you mean. You do not need to iterate your subject, Child. It is implied based on the conjugation of your verb_.’

I felt my brows draw together in frustration. “But not all verbs are conjugated. First person present tense ends in –an, or just -n correct? So would the conjugation for ‘to dream’ be ‘ _somnian_ ’ or…?”

Her voice, when she spoke again, was warm with a smile. ‘ _Very good, Child. I am glad you are as clever as I had hoped_.’

My chest and cheeks grew hot. Flemeth had just praised me. Flemeth. _Mythal_. Mother of Morrigan. Goddess of Righteous Justice. But then I remembered this was all a dream, so why should I get excited? Of course my subconscious would be nice to me. It only made sense. Well, unless I took into account all the nightmares I had…

‘Tel’somnias, Da’len. Ir abelas.’

The pressure was receding to something that felt more normal. Not only that, but I could feel my body as a whole unit again, not simply scattered parts coalescing in the dark. I laughed and air rushed past my lips. “That’s exactly what a dream-Mythal would say.”

‘Ir abelas,’ she repeated, her voice full of sorrow. Which, come to think of it, was sort of out of character for her—she was always smiling, or almost always. Maybe she was smiling now? I couldn’t tell; I couldn’t see anything. But I knew now that if I opened my eyes, I would see where I was. Maybe I would see Mythal? Wouldn’t that be something? My eyes fluttered, and I found it difficult to open them, as if I had been sleeping for such a long time. My heart stuttered in my chest. I’ve always been a very lucid dreamer and had the uncanny ability to tell when I was dreaming, and to control those dreams. To make myself safe in nightmares. To fly.

My heart lurched in my chest.

This was no dream. I was lying on something hard and cold and very distantly, I could hear voices. I sat up quickly, and instantly regretted it. My head swam, and I nearly blacked out. Once everything had stopped spinning, I blinked, looking around my very new, very strange settings. I was in some sort of bed chamber, small and cramped and filled with dust and clutter. It hadn’t been used in quite some time, clearly. There was a bed, a desk and a chair, along with a trunk and what looked like an armoire. The desk was strewn with old parchment and heavy tomes, a quill lying broken and abandoned on what seemed to be vellum. Using the wooden posts of the bed to steady myself, I stood on shaking legs.

I was so weak! It was as if I had never stood before in my life. I laughed, somewhat hysterically, and bit the sound off abruptly. The timber was the same, but the voice was not. My voice was not my voice. My breathing came in short, sharp bursts and my legs buckled beneath me, only my vice-like grip on the wooden post saving me from falling. Now that I was taking the time to notice—and whenever I had an anxiety attack, the world would seem to slow down, allowing me to note even the most trivial details of my surroundings, emotional upheavals, and physical responses—I was able to tell that the room was dark, the only light coming from beneath the closed door, a weak and watery tremor of yellow. And yet, despite this, I could see everything with perfect clarity. Heck, I could make out the cobwebs on the far wall, the slight scratching in the varnish of the desk where the quill must have missed its parchment.

Carefully, I sat back on the bed. It squeaked painfully beneath me. My ears twitched in retaliation to the loud, uncomfortable noise. My ears, now that I was paying attention to them, felt…odd. Long. Too long. Slowly, afraid to move quickly, I reached up and let my fingertips graze them. My ears shivered at the tickle, incredibly sensitive to even the softest of touches.

Fuckity fuck fuck _fuck_. No, that wasn’t right. I was an elf now. I had to say something in Elvhen.

“ _Fenedhis_ ,” I whispered, my throat an uncertain crack. My voice was a touch deeper than before, and, despite its uncertainty, much more melodic. I bit off a hysterical laugh. Beat back the panic. Breathe. Breathe. I had been dreaming a moment before…hadn’t I? Had…had Mythal been there, or was I misremembering? No, no there was nothing. And then it hit me that I was alone, aside from the voices coming down the hall. Somehow I knew that outside that door was a hallway, just as I knew that room somehow. It was so familiar.

I was on my feet before it fully registered just where I was. She was screaming for help, pleading. How could I ignore that? Maybe I could help the Inquisitor—not yet Inquisitor, but same difference. My legs were shaky, but they carried me to the door easily enough. I tried the door handle and it would not budge. Locked. I swallowed hard, and turned back to the desk, hoping that I had overlooked the—and yes! There it was! I _knew_ it would be. I grabbed the key and unlocked the door, then I was sprinting down the hall on legs that were quickly acclimating to use. I came to a set of double doors, and knew that Divine Justinia was behind them. I bounced eagerly for a moment, looking left and right, waiting for the Inquisitor to appear. We could storm the doors together and maybe _somehow_ I could distract Coryphe-shits, and they could grab the orb. The moment stretched, and no one came.

“Please,” came the desperate cry, “someone help me!”

“ _Fenedhis_!” I muttered the generic Elvish curse under my breath and kicked the doors open. Luckily for my ankle, the doors were unlocked. Without a weapon, without knowing how I got there, without knowing if I was even still _sane_ , I looked wildly around the room, finding Corypheus.

“What’s going on here‽” I demanded, standing with my legs wide apart, bracing for some impact. Corypheus, standing tall and terrible and looking ready to murder, said something about an intruder (me), and then everything was happening at once.

           

 

**~**

 

 

The sensation of falling. The hard thump of rock, sharp and sudden, piercing my knees. My shins.

Fire. Fire in my hand. Tingling everywhere, skin alight with energy.

Pain. Confusion. No thoughts. Only feeling. Sensation. Nothing pleasant.

Body collapsing. Hands sliced. Gravel. Dirt. Cut palms. Dull green light. Throbbing. Pulsing. Head lifting. Boots coming forward. A sword. Another. A third.

Falling. Vision marred. Dirt, rock, earth. Eerie red glow, just out of eye line. Pain escalating. Head throbbing.

Blackness. Nothingness. Fire in hand. Green light. Always fire in hand.

 

 

**~**

 

 

When I awoke, I was already restrained. Someone was yelling at me, demanding I sit up. I sat, tried to scratch my face, but couldn’t lift my arms. The wooden restraint was too heavy. There was a green glow, coming from the restraint. No…no, that was my hand. It was coming from my hand. No wonder my nerves were on fire. I laughed, laughed until I fainted.

 

 

**~**

 

 

There were several more episodes of a similar nature. Wake for a few minutes to have brackish water poured down my throat, maybe a bite of hard bread, feel the fire in my hand, then pass out. Words were always pouring over me, harsh and cold. They demanded I sit up, demanded that I get the hell up, by the Maker’s left sac. Why was I being yelled at? Sometimes, a cool dry hand would touch my forehead and I would sleep dreamlessly. Then I could wonder, in the dreamless dark, and think of the things I knew. Why was my hand on fire? I could remember very little. I knew I had a name (I did not know what it was); I knew that I loved tea with two sugars and a splash of milk; I knew magic was the only thing keeping me alive.

I knew that my hand should not feel like it was on fire. I knew that it should not glow.

I knew that if I did not manage to get up soon, I would most likely be killed.

The time I did not pass out after being fed was when they ripped me from (what they called) a bed, and dragged me to a dark stone room, smelling of mold and urine and bitter copper. The guards would not come too close to me. They waved their swords at me, demanded that I walk ahead of them.

“Any funny business, knife ear, and I’ll cut that hand right off ye. See wot ye do then.”

I believed him. When I was in the center of this new, unpleasant room, someone (probably the ass who had called me knife ear—I may not have known much, but I knew that was a jab at the fact that I was an elf) kicked the small of my back and I collapsed onto my knees. The pain was bright and immediate, and the fire on my hand flared in response. I gasped as it glowed, the fire burning hot and green. I grew so weak that I almost fell over, but I would not give that damn guard the satisfaction of seeing how he had affected me. I ground my teeth and straightened my spine and then a door I had not noticed was kicked open.

A backlit figure with short hair entered, drawing all of my immediate attention. Her figure was slender but strong, and her presence filled the room like water rushing in to drown me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another woman (cloaked, red hair, so pretty; delicate features that softened the rigid steel inside her—how did I _know_ that?) approach. Had she come in with Cassandra? Wait, Cassa—?

The black haired woman circled me, then leaned down and said with harsh clarity, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.”

It wasn’t a question.

“The Conclave is destroyed,” she continued (‘ _Yes,_ ’ I thought, ‘ _the conclave. The peace talks_.’), “Everyone who attended is dead.” She paused, circled around in front of me. She stood, towering above me, the light from beyond the open door illuminating her profile and throwing her cheek bones into sharp relief. “Except for you.” She gestured at me.

I stared at her, too exhausted to react. Was I at the Conclave? Why…why would I have been there? I, who had no name? No family? My hand burned with green fire. That was all I knew about myself. Well, and how I took tea.

Not satisfied with my lack of response, she grabbed the glowing hand attached to my wrist (was it really _my_ hand?) and pulled it up. “Explain _this_.”

She gave my hand a shake and the electrical fire burned hot and bright and so very green, as if to reply. I couldn’t, after all. She dropped my hand, and I said as much.

“I can’t.” My voice surprised me. Was that _really_ how I sounded?

She began circling me again, one hand on the giant blade at her hip, as if to remind me of the position I was in. Oh, Cass. I knew quite well my position.

“What do you mean you _can’t_?”

I looked her in the eye, ignoring the large sword that was too close to my person for comfort. “I don’t know what that is, or how it got there.” The ghost of a name passed through my mind. Cor…Coryph…No. Gone.

She squatted in front of me, put her face in mine. “You’re lying!”

The red head, Leliana, _Lels_ , grabbed Cassandra and pulled her back, away from me. The cloaked woman looked the brunette in the eye. “We need her, Cassandra.”

Cassandra. I had been right. But…but what was going on? Why was my memory coming in shades and shadow? Half-glimpsed through heavy-lidded eyes, darting just out of sight?

“I don’t understand,” I found myself saying, more _to_ myself than to them. Leliana left Cassandra to approach me. She looked down at me, and I could barely make out her face in the hood. The light from the door illuminated a quarter of her nose, the jut of her chin, the soft fullness of her lower lip.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

I dipped my head, trying to think. I closed my eyes against the dull light from the door, against the throbbing, steady glow of my hand. “I remember…running. _Things_ were chasing me, and then…a woman?” Yes…a glowing woman, standing over me. Her arm was reaching towards me…helping…

“A woman?” Leliana demanded, interrupting my thoughts.

“She reached out to me,” I said, opening my eyes but not seeing this dungeon. “But then…”

I trailed off, unable to continue, unable to remember. Cassandra gently urged Leliana away from me, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was trying to remember. The woman…the creatures…

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” Cassandra said firmly (right again! Leliana…Lels…), “I will take her to the rift.”

Rift…I had no idea why, but somehow I knew that that word should have been capitalized “Rift.” A wave of apprehension washed over me, turning my empty guts into twisting, writhing snakes. The fire in my hand pulsed hot.

Cassandra bent down, began the removal of my bindings.

“What did happen?” I nearly whispered, afraid to know, but more afraid not to.

“It will be easier to show you,” she said matter-of-factly, pulling me to my feet by the non-afflicted arm. The wooden restraint was gone, but my hands were still bound at the wrist. Once on my feet, she nodded to the guards and they held the doors as she walked out into the light. I followed slowly, still unused to walking. I had little strength stored, as I could not remember (quite literally) how long ago it had been since I had had a real meal. The light hit me hard and I turned away, wincing. When my eyes adjusted, I was able to look up and see the giant glowing tear in the sky. No words could describe it.

“We call it ‘the Breach,’” Cassandra said, breaking my reverie. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

I don’t know how I kept from gaping. “An explosion can do _that_?” I let out a low whistle. “ _Fenedhis_.”

“This one did,” Cassandra replied, approaching me once again. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

My stomach dropped. Oh, _Creators_ , what was I going to do—how could I possibly help—? As if responding again to my fear, or proximity to the Breach, my hand flared bright, blinding, and I felt the fire spread up my arm and into my shoulder. I screamed and fell to my knees, the pain too much. It was too much.

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads…and it _is_ killing you.”

My face shot up, and I stared at Cassandra. Well…I had figured as much. As little as I knew, I knew hands weren’t supposed to glow with green-hot holy fire. And holy it was. There was something about it…something…a wolf…?

“It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time,” Cassandra continued, interrupting my stream of consciousness. Not a good time to let my mind wander anyway.

“You say it _may_ be the key…to doing what?” Obviously to stopping the Breach, but _how_?

“Closing the Breach,” she replied, unhelpfully. “Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly.” She paused to look me in the eye. “It is our only chance, however. And yours.”

I took a deep, bracing breath. There was so much I didn’t understand, didn’t know. And yet…if I could somehow help close that giant monstrosity in the sky, I had every obligation to life itself to do so. Nothing was more important than life. Nothing.

“I understand.”

The brunette warrior blinked, clearly taken aback. “Then…?”

“I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes. I have to.”

A slight smile curved one corner of her mouth, and then she was helping me stand again. I felt like that was happening too often, people helping me stand. I didn’t like it. I needed to be strong. As if in reply, I felt the tremor in my legs leave. My spine straightened, and I was able to walk with relative ease as Cassandra led me through a makeshift camp. The pathways were crowded with people, and the tents filled with workers, soldiers, random bald men with giant red moustaches, glaring daggers at me. A normal Tuesday, then.

“They have decided your guilt,” Cass supplied handily. “They need it.”

Well, of course they did. Every tragedy or act of terrorism needed a bogey man. And there was only one _seth’lin_ walking around with a glowing left hand. Lucky me. A young woman with freckles clouding her face like stars gave me an especially dour look.

“The people of haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers.”

Yes, the Divine Justinia. I knew her. She had died, yes, that was true. But…hadn’t I just seen her?

“It was a chance for peace between mages and templars,” Cassandra continued, breaking my thoughts. But yes! That was right! The mages…the mages had done… _something_ , yes! And the templars…what had they done? And suddenly I knew with a surprising alacrity that this concerned me a great deal, as a mage. I had not been aware of my magic before, but I could feel it now, pulsing in my veins like blood just beneath my skin. Yes, this conflict was of great importance to someone like me. _Apostate_ , the word echoed soundlessly in my head. That was what I was: an apostate. One without a Circle.

“She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.” We had reached a bridge, the doors were thrown open at Cassandra’s signal, and we walked through, past yet more guards. “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves. As she did. Until the Breach is sealed.”

She stopped, turned to face me, and removed the rope from my wrists. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more. Come,” she said as I watched the rope disappear. I twirled my wrists experimentally. “It is not far.”

I didn’t move, but continued watching as she turned away from me and began to cross the bridge. “Where are you taking me?” I had to stop myself from calling her “Cass.” I had this strange feeling she wouldn’t take kindly to a prisoner using an affectionate nickname. Not so soon, anyway. Maybe tomorrow.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.” (All men are the work of our Maker’s hands.)

“Open the gate! We are heading into the valley!” (From the lowest slaves to the highest kings.)

The chant faded to the background as I left the bridge and together, Cass and I made our way on a dirt road through snow-laden trees. The air was cold, brisk, and it was so clean after that dungeon that I could have stood there, drinking it in, for days. The sun fell warm upon me. The conifers swayed gently in the wind. The sound, the sensation, the scent, they all calmed me. They fed me, made me stronger. My energy was returning at long last. Maybe that was normal with the Dalish. But then again, I wasn’t Dalish. Wait…or was I?

I began a light jog up the side of a large hill, between two clefts in a mountain. The Breach was visible between these two walls of stone, and people were running away, escaping it, heading back the way Cass and I had just come.

“Maker, it’s the end of the world!” one man shouted, stumbling towards the bridge. The sky parted at his words, and a beam of green electrical fire struck the ground. Pain exploded inside my hand, and once again the strength was washed from my body, sucked out into the sky. The mark was connecting me to the Breach, and with every pulse, it drained me and fed the terror above. I felt my knees collapse and I closed my eyes, willing the pain away. Cassandra slowed, turned and looked at me. Without a second thought, she pulled me to my feet, helped me to stand.

“The pulses are coming faster now,” she said, almost kindly, as she steadied me. “The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

“How _did_ I survive the blast?” I demanded, more of myself than of her as I brushed the snow off of my knees and began to trudge forward again. My strength was returning faster.

“They said you…stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Yes, Andraste…her ashes were at the Temple. Or, rather, they _had_ been.

“…I suppose you’ll see soon enough.” And that was enough chat for her. We jogged in silence until we came to the next outpost. The cold air was harsh on my lungs, but I loved it. I had never felt so alive. Or, at least, I couldn’t remember feeling so alive. But that wasn’t saying much, just now. I was crossing the stone bridge when the blast hit hard, only a few feet in front of us. Panic filled me as both Cassandra and I were flung into the air, stones, heavy and dangerous, flying around us. _No_ , I screamed in my head as the ground raced up to meet us all too quickly. The flowing feeling in my veins spread out, like water spilling across the floor, and splashed outwards until it hit Cassandra. The energy, the magic, softened the blow to the ground, and scattered the rocks and debris pell-mell around us. By all rights, we should have been dead. But we weren’t. The cool energy pulled back, _flowed_ back inside my veins, weaker than before, tired.

I slowly pushed myself up onto the ice where we had fallen. Cassandra was lying on her back, a few feet away. Green light poured out of the Breach, and meteors shot down, one, two, landing on the ice a few feet away. One of those meteors began to shift and roil, exploding in a blaze of fire and energy to reveal some…some demon. A shade, I knew, somehow. Cassandra was on her feet before I was.

“Stay behind me!” she commanded, sword drawn, as she advanced on our tattered-looking enemy. It was tall, inhuman yet clothed with rags and straps of fraying leather. What? Could demons not afford new coats? Patches, even? I did as Cassandra had asked, glancing about through the rubble. Then I saw it. The staff. I could feel it humming softly with ice magic, urging me to take it in hand. Ice magic, how useful in this frozen tundra.

I didn’t have long to dwell on the humor of the situation. The ground a few feet away had begun to glow and pulse as something clawed its way from—well, Creators knew where. Before I could say _embrium_ , I had the staff in hand and was pointing it vaguely in the direction of the shade. Gods, what _was_ that awful thing on its head? Was that some kind of leather helmet? Odd that it cared about protecting its head when nearly every other inch of its body was exposed. Ah, well. Not my problem. I cleared my mind, focused on my enemy, and sent a ball of fire shooting straight at it. Its ridiculous skirt was the first thing to catch, sending it shrieking in a panic. I took the time that diversion created me to reign in my focus again, and call down lightning. I could feel the magic pulling the electricity down from the sky, but the staff acted as a focus, helped to aim and control the wild magic that struck both shades, tearing through the one nearest me, and stunning the one attacking Cass, allowing her the opportunity to skewer the thing on that beast of a sword.

As the shade slid off of her blade and fell, limp, to the ground, I lowered my staff, heaving a sigh. “It’s over.”

Cassandra did not lower her sword. She came at me, ready to strike. “Drop your weapon. Now.”

I thought about arguing. I really did. But it seemed a little on the stupid side to make the crazy lady with a sword angry, so I obliged. I used my best, calm-down-no-one-is-crazy-here voice and said, “All right.” I lowered the staff. “Have it your way.” Crazy lady.

She stared at me. I stared back at her. She stared some more. I really thought, for a moment, that she was going to make me leave behind the one thing that might actually keep her alive if I had to defend myself with magic again. But then,

“Wait.” More staring. A sigh. Sheathing that big, nasty sword. “You don’t need a staff, but you should have one. I cannot protect you.”

I held in my sigh of relief. Maybe Cass wasn’t so crazy after all; maybe she was just stubborn.

“I should remember you agreed to come willingly.” She removed something from her belt then, an impossibly large leather bag. How had I missed it dangling from her person? She removed a handful of glass vials, and passed them to me. I slid each one into a little notch along my belt obligingly.

“Take these potions,” she said as I put them away. “Maker knows what we will face.”

“Where are all your soldiers?” I asked, sliding the last vial into my belt. I looked around, noticing for the first time a bag of gold lying carelessly a few feet away on the ice. What in Thedas…? Why was that there? Almost out of annoyance, I went over to it and picked it up, taking the spilled contents and attaching them as well to my belt.

“At the forward camp, or fighting. We are on our own, for now.”

I nodded and, gold in place at my waist, began jogging up the incline of the hill. The frozen soil was not much easier to walk on that the ice, but my feet at least found the sharp, stabbing rocks to be some form of traction against my bare soles. We crested the top of the hill, and there, down on the other side, another shade was sliding around, looking for trouble. And this one had a little friend with him, a wisp or something, by the looks of it. Its intangible green form darted back and forth, and I could feel the second its attention landed on me.

“There! Watch out!” Cassandra called, sliding down the edge of the hill to the ice below. “If we flank them, we may gain the advantage.”

I nodded, not thinking of how she couldn’t see, and ran down the side of the hill, farther down. I fell in step behind her, and when Cassandra ran to attack the shade, I stayed back, casting spells from the sides. I hit it with a fireball, and then once I had re-focused myself, called a chain of lightning down again, striking both the wisp and shade at once. The wisp didn’t like that one bit. It sent a blast of energy at me, slamming into me and breaking my focus. I had been building a fireball inside myself, somewhere in my ribs, near my gut, almost ready to send it flying outwards, when that damn energy blast knocked into me, shaking my concentration and sending the energy that would-have-been-a-fireball back flooding through my veins.

“Up on the hill! It attacks from a distance!” Cass shouted. I wanted to smile at and strangle her, all at once. No. Shit.

Two could play at that game. I sent a blast of cold at it from my staff, focusing once again on building that energy, that heat, inside me. Just as it was about to fling another bolt of green energy at me, I lobbed the fireball at it, striking it and dazing it, if only for a moment. Hard to daze something that doesn’t truly have a body. By now, Cass had finished off the shade and was slicing through the wisp, landing a killing blow. Another ball of green electro-static fire landed some distance away.

“They’re falling from the Breach!”

I nodded, and ran, heading for the stairs that I saw jutting out of the snow. My foot, _my bare foot_ , landed in something uncomfortably hot and _disgustingly_ gooey. I nearly slipped. I looked down to see my foot smearing green goo across the ice. There, in the center of the glob of goo, was a crystalline shard of…something. It looked curious. Wishing that I was anyone else in that moment in time, I reached down, picked through the goo, and retrieved the crystal. I stuffed it into a pocket, wiped my hand on my trousers, and took off up the stairs. Don’t think about it. Just…don’t.

“We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.”

And I could. Swords clashed, arrows buzzed, and I could feel the sweet tingle of magic make the air feel alive. My breathing came quick and shallow, adrenaline flooding my veins. Something was about to happen. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sprig of elf root growing wild. It took more will power than I’d like to admit to _not_ stop and pick it. You never knew when it would come in handy, after all!

“Who’s fighting?” I asked, nearing the top of the stairs and picking up my pace.

“You’ll see soon. We must help them.”

We reached the top and there, beyond two crumbling stone walls, a small band of people was fighting a group of demons—shades and wisps. The rift was a small tear, but very close, and spewing very real demons out of its glowing mouth. I grit my teeth, jumped down the first wall, launched over the second, planted my staff in front of me and began to summon the magic inside of myself. Another mage was dealing with a shade, and even though the creature was slicing into him, his concentration remained unbroken. It helped me. His focus made it easier to slip into my own, and soon I found his movements to be leading mine. We worked together, killed the shade, and moved onto a wisp that was attacking a blonde dwarf, who was in turn attacking another shade. Cassandra was not far behind, and she helped destroy the wisp before removing the head of the shade with a single swipe of her blade.

“Quickly,” the mage said, grabbing my marked hand and tugging me towards the rift, “before more come through!”

His voice…I stared at him as he shoved my hand at the rift, sealing it with a spurt of energy from the mark. The force of the energy pouring out of me was enough to snap me back into reality. I wanted to call him ‘Pride,’ but that wasn’t right. Pride wasn’t a name. It was a demon, but not a name. Creators, his _voice_ …And his _face_. He made my chest tighten and heat rush between my legs in a most _unseemly_ fashion.

“I was born to love you,” I said without thinking, except I was able to stop my words by slapping a hand over my mouth, leaving him staring at me, wondering why I had just exclaimed, “I was born.” I cleared my throat and tried again. “What…did you do?” I asked, looking from him to my hand and then back. _Fenedhis lasa_ , but he had nice cheek bones. And his eyes, _Creators_ his _eyes_ , oh, I could look at them forever. Right now they were gazing at me as if I were somewhat soft in the head. He made me feel soft in the head. In the heart. In the loins. He made me feel soft and hot and bothered and Creators, I was rambling in my own thoughts. Why was I reacting this way?

“I did nothing,” he said, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. “The credit is yours.”

I stared at him, clenching my marked hand into a fist. I released the tension slowly, my eyes not leaving his face. There was something about him…I knew him, the way I knew the others, but he stirred more emotions in me than I thought it was possible to have. “ _I_ closed that thing? How?” I managed, once the silence had stretched on a moment too long.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand.” He inclined his head, shrugged his shoulders again, and offered me the smallest of smiles. My toes curled. What was happening? Why was I responding so _stupidly_ to this stranger? Stranger he was, but I felt I knew him—had known him for some time. Creators, I wanted to touch him, to prove that he was real. He continued, not knowing the turmoil he was causing inside me. “I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake—and it seems I was correct.” The way he said it, it left little doubt in my mind as to whether or not he had expected to be wrong. Maybe Pride was right. But looking at the way he stooped his shoulders, the small smile…no, that name was wrong. So wrong.

“Meaning,” Cassandra cut in, silencing my thoughts, “it could also close the Breach itself.”

“Possibly,” the handsome mage said (handsome? Where had that come from?). “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Good to know!” came a gruff voice from behind me. I turned, looking at the blonde dwarf as he so nonchalantly adjusted his gloves. A crossbow was slung casually on his back, and a healthy amount of chest hair poked up from the deep vee of his shirt. “Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”

I held back a snort. That was Varric all right, through and through. My thoughts once again froze me. How did I—?

“Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He approached our little circle, grinned and winked at Cassandra. Her lip curled and she made a noise I could only describe as ‘disgusted,’ and turned away. But what this dwarf was doing here was unclear. Why was he ‘tagging along,’ so to speak?

“Are you with the chantry, or…?”

The mage beside me startled me by chuckling. It was a pleasant sound, and the way my ears perked at it surprised me.

“Was that a serious question?” he asked, grinning.

Varric dipped his head, smiled, and looked up at me through lowered lashes. “Technically I’m a prisoner, just like you.”

Ah! A kindred spirit! Before I could say so, Cassandra interrupted me with, “I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly that is no longer necessary.”

“Yet, here I am,” the dwarf replied smoothly. “Lucky for you, considering current events.”

The silence stretched, making me feel like bouncing on the balls of my feet, a childish show of anxiousness I didn’t want to display in front of the mage. You know, his head was sort of shaped like an egg…like a perfect, somewhat rounded, egg.

“That’s…a nice crossbow you have there,” I said, to fill the space and cease my insipid thoughts.

“Ah, isn’t she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

I felt my smile stretch across my face. “You named your crossbow Bianca?”

“Of course. And she’ll be great company in the valley.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassandra interjected, anger pouring out of her instantly. It was amazing how she could go from 0 to 60 in less than a second. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric said, cutting her off. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore.” He paused, grinned, and added, “You need me.” I swear to the Creators, he batted his eyelashes. Oh, I _liked_ him.

Again, the disgusted noise.

“My name,” the elf beside me began, garnering my attention immediately (and the manic thought of, ‘ _yes, tell me your secrets, oh wise Egg._ ’), “is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

Well that was…nice? It didn’t really matter what he was saying, I supposed. As long as his lips kept doing that interesting thing where they pushed together, made sound, and then stretched in a smile. His eyes, clear and cloudy at the same time, stared perhaps a mite _too_ deeply into my own. Was he expecting something…? Maybe he felt that he knew me, the way I felt that I knew him?

Varric clarified: “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’”

Well…that was almost as good as an unspoken emotional connection. If he was able to keep this glowing fire from killing me, that meant he must have some knowledge about it. Excitement shot through me. “You seem to know a great deal about it all.”

“Like you,” Cassandra interrupted, “Solas is an apostate.”

Solas’ smile wasn’t the least big smug. It was gentle, the way one might smile at a recalcitrant child. “Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra.” His eyes returned to mine and I could feel my stomach drop. They were so blue and so…sad. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin.”

“And what will you do once this is over?” I asked, and then wanted to smack myself for doing so. Way to be creepy, me.

“One hopes those in power will remember who helped and who did not.” His eyes gazed into my own with such intensity. He knew…something. What was he not telling me? Was he _trying_ to tell me something? Why was I _so_ curious about him? Oh, Creators, I was overthinking everything—and yet, I couldn’t shake the distinct impression that there was something more to Solas. Something…else, but what? I couldn’t say. “Cassandra,” Solas continued, ignorant of my inner struggle, “you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine _any_ mage having such power.”

“Understood,” she said, standing ramrod straight, her gaze as penetrating as her blade. “We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

Solas inclined his head, waited for Cassandra to take the lead, over the broken stone wall, and then followed. Snow drifted down slowly, fat and wet and heavy, landing on my clothes and soaking them almost instantly. Concentrating, I raised my internal temperature just enough to help evaporate the water, and to keep me warm. It tired the flow of magic in my veins. Not sustainable then. Varric shrugged beside me, then grinned.

“Well,” he said, “Bianca’s excited!” He winked and followed the Seeker.

Cassandra called from down below, just out of sight, “This way, down the bank. The road ahead is blocked.”

Solas’ voice came after. “We must move quickly.”

I gave one last look around at the ruined structure, and noticed, hiding beneath the body of a fallen soldier, another staff. I reached for it, felt its fire, and gripped it tightly. This…this would be good. I jumped the wall and ran to catch up with Solas.

“ _Hahren_?” I tapped him gently on the arm, surprising him. He blinked at me in brief confusion before his expression smoothed over.

“Yes, _da’len_?”

My heart stumbled in my chest. He had—but no, no I had to focus. No time for butterflies and goofy grins and curling toes. “Here,” I said, perhaps a mite too forcefully as I shoved the staff at him. “You were using ice magic earlier, but this staff is a bit more powerful than the one you have right now. Besides…fire suits you.”

His blue eyes widened a fraction. He took the staff, careful to place his fingers near but not touching mine, and weighed it carefully. He smiled at me, and there was a look of pride in his eyes as he gazed down at me. “ _Ma serannas, lethallan_.”

He had thanked me. I don’t know why that was so important to me, but it was. I simply grinned at him, much like the child he had accused me of being. Nothing mattered in that moment. For one second, that sorrow in his eyes had lifted and been filled with surprise, then pride. Because of me. I could have clicked my heels! But no, we had much more important things to worry over than one man’s sorrow. I nodded my head to him. Before I could ruin the moment by, say, _drooling_ , I dashed ahead, past Cassandra and down the steep, ice-coated steps. The stairs were carved into the side of a large stone hill, and were incredibly slick. My feet were able to find each foothold to keep my balance easily as I moved lightly down.

Finally, we reached the bottom. The steps crumbled into loosely strewn rocks, sharp and dangerous, and I stepped around them with care. We were again at the base of a frozen lake. I could smell smoke distantly, sharp and acrid, mixing with the scent of pine. A cabin was burning, most of the roof already gone, leaving behind skeletal beams in its wake. There, on the ice, demons were sliding around as if on ice skates. It might have been cute had I not known that they would kill me, if given the chance. _Not just me_ , I reminded myself _, but anyone they come into contact with_.

“Demons ahead!” Solas called from behind me. I nodded to him, to let him know I had seen them.

“Glad you brought me now, Seeker?” Varric was only just _slightly_ smug that his point was proven.

A greater shade was scooting about, a little too close for comfort. I stepped up to the edge of the overhang above the lake, aimed my staff and focused my energy. Solas ran up beside me, and began to cast. Varric hung back, just behind us, firing at a shade as Cassandra bellowed a challenge and charged. The battle was quick, with minimal injury. One of the shades had managed to slice my leg, but Solas and Varric remained unscathed. It bled a little and stung a great deal, but was no danger to me—too small to take the time to bind, not deep enough to warrant a potion.

“Careless,” Solas reprimanded, motioning for me to drink a potion. “You should have moved, _lethallan_. You saw it coming, did you not?”

I nodded even as I shrugged, trying not to freak out over the fact that he had _again_ called me _lethallan_. Score. “But I was casting. It would have wrecked my concentration.” I touched a potion and debated internally whether or not this wound was worth it. I only had eight, and my leg looked like it was almost done bleeding. So much for these pants though, I thought ruefully.

“Drink the potion,” he repeated. He watched me worry my lip in thought and nearly rolled his eyes. “We will acquire more soon enough.”

He was right. There was no point not—oh! Elf root! My face brightened as I saw another sprig nearby. That would stop the bleeding with _out_ wasting a potion. I slid down the overhang, held in a yelp of pain as my leg almost buckled, and hobbled over to the elf root. Varric was saying something behind me, but I tuned it out as I gingerly harvested as much of the plant as I could without killing it, and squeezed the juice onto my wound. Immediately, the blood clotted and the stinging abated. I grinned, proud of myself. I looked up to see everyone staring at me impatiently.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Sun-Blossom, but there’s a hole in the sky that needs plugging.” Varric eyed me as I set the remains of the elf root down. I raised an eyebrow and waved my glowing hand.

“Very much aware; the pain is a constant reminder. Now, stop wasting time and let’s go.”

“ _I’m_ the one wasting time?” the blonde demanded with a grin, sliding down the tiny drop with help from Cassandra. Solas was already down and looking at me as if he disapproved of the time I had wasted getting that elf root. Or maybe it was just that he was beginning to disapprove of _me_ in general. Well, it saved a potion. That was all that had mattered. Ignoring the rather scathing looks I was getting, I set off at a light jog. Not perfect, but my leg was better. We passed a cabin that was intact, as well as the one that was nearly burned to the ground. If we had had more time, I would have loved to explore them. Unfortunately, we didn’t. The ice of the lake was uncomfortably cold, colder than the snow, but not as frigid as the frozen stone stairs we had just climbed down.

“Sun-Blossom,” Varric called from behind me. As far as names went, it wasn’t _bad_ , but I doubted I would be adopting it any time soon. “You passed the way up.”

I shook my head and continued forward, across the lake. “There’s something going on over here. I can feel it.”

“We do not have time for this,” I heard Cassandra say, but she didn’t stop me. We came to the edge of the lake, and I began to trudge my way up through a clearing in the trees. Quickly, the snow turned to a stone path, and ahead I could see the blaze of a fire. No voices chatted amicably beside it, however. The stench of death was heavy in the air. I readied myself for battle before I even saw that Shades circling the camp fire atop a set of stone stairs. A dead body lay slightly off-kilter, just beyond the reach of the licking flames. The body made my gut clench and heat with anger. I had to focus myself before I summoned the magic inside me to attack. Striking in anger was wrong no matter how justified it felt in the moment. I took a breath, centered myself, heard Cassandra cry out as she charged ahead again, and felt the anger dissipate. Once more, I fell into the rhythm of summoning and casting. The battle was quick, but painless. No wounds.

Silently, I turned, heading back the way we had come. I paused, and then looked back at Cassandra. “Can we send someone to collect his body? Even if he isn’t one of yours, he shouldn’t be left out here.”

Cassandra looked surprised momentarily, but nodded. “I will see that it is done.”

I inclined my head once in thanks, and then returned to silence as I walked back down the rocky path towards the lake. The trees swayed in a light wind above us, their nettles rattling softly and filling the air with their crisp perfume.

“You are Dalish,” Solas said, breaking the silence that was settling like a chill in my limbs. He said it tentatively, almost as if he were posing a question, then continued, “but clearly you are away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?”

Adrenaline spiked through me. How could I tell them that I had no idea who I was, or where I had come from? My mind raced, and I found myself dodging that particular blow with a question of my own.

“What do you know of the Dalish?” I asked, having already taken (ample) note of the lack of a _vallaslin_ on his (handsome) face. I regarded him, stopping my trudge forward. He was standing a few feet away, not on the dirt path, but atop the snow, as if the cold did not bother his feet in the slightest.

“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion,” he said, after a time. He would not look at me when he spoke. He stared off into the distance, searching the trees perhaps? There was nothing out there. Nothing but ghosts and snow.

“What do you mean by ‘crossed paths’?” I asked, genuinely interested. Who was his family, if not the Dalish? Had he been a city elf before abandoning that life for the wilds? To wander? That felt…wrong, but where else could he have come from?

“I mean,” he said, finally looking at me, searching my face, “that I offered to share knowledge. Only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.” His eyes burned into mine, not letting my gaze go. What was he trying to say? What did he want from me?

“Can’t you elves play nice for once?” Varric asked, clearly trying to lighten the mood. Or maybe he was as exhausted with Elven politics as Solas seemed to be. I felt incredibly sad suddenly, and wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. I looked away and began to move forward again, saying nothing. Tears stung my eyes against all reason. Why _was_ there so much turmoil…?

My jog turned into a run as I hit the frozen lake. I sprinted ahead of the others, heading back towards the cabin in the distance. The one that had been burning was reduced even further to its skeletal framework, charred black and smoking horribly. I pushed myself faster to pass it, and made my way up the stone stairs just beyond. I climbed the first small set, and stopped at the clearing to catch my breath and let the others regain me. Stone pillars lined the small clearing, marking the way to another, longer flight of stairs carved into the side of yet another stone hill. I craned my neck back, looking at the top. Maybe that was more than a hill.

Solas was the first to catch up, but he lingered at the bottom of the stairs until Varric and Cassandra had joined him. The silence stretched on as they joined me, and we began to climb up.

“So,” Varric began, clearly unable to take the quiet, “… _are_ you innocent?”

I bit back a smile. If I wasn’t, would I admit it in front of Cassandra? In front of Solas, with his sad blue eyes?

“I don’t remember what happened,” I said honestly.

“That’ll get you every time,” Varric replied, walking just a step behind me. The loose rocks clattered beneath his boots, scraping against snow and mud. “Should have spun a story.”

“That’s what _you_ would have done,” Cassandra said, finally breaking her long fast of silence. I blinked back at her, one step behind Varric, scowling ahead.

“It’s more believable. And less prone to result in premature execution.”

I laughed under my breath, and then quickly coughed to cover the sound at the look Cass shot me. We climbed the rest of the smooth stone steps in crackling silence. Snow clung all around us—to our left, blanketing the lake and trees below, and to our right, cloaking the side of the mountain like a loose-fitting robe.

The steps ended in yet another gravel path, flanked on both sides by a thick smattering of trees. That smell…I would never get over that delicious smell. We crested the small incline together and saw demons ahead, a few Shades and a Wisp or two. The ensuing battle was fast, but not injury-free. As I was sending the finishing blow to a shade, a wisp struck me with its magic from the distance. It hurt, broke my concentration, and just plain pissed me off. I began gathering my magic again, not taking the time to move out of the wisp’s line of fire. I summoned the lightning bolt just before the next blast hit me. I coughed and blood speckled the snow at my feet. It was so vibrantly red against all that white. I stared at it a moment, surprised.

“ _Move_ ,” Solas shouted and shoved me hard with his shoulder. He took the next hit from the wisp, grunting in slight pain. I looked at him with wide eyes, fear striking through me. But no, I had to focus. I spun around, gathered my magic so much more quickly than I had before and struck the wisp down with another bolt of lightning. It dissipated, even as the last shade was slain by a bolt from Varric. Immediately, I turned back to Solas. I put my hand on his arm.

“Are you well? Here, have a potion. I’m sorry that I was careless; I—”

Solas looked up at me, incredulous at first, and then annoyance darkened his brow. “You are the one bleeding from several orifices, and you ask if _I_ need the potion? I had the remnants of a barrier to protect me. You had nothing. You have next to no armor; you seem to know no defensive spells, and you stand directly in the path of danger.”

I felt my cheeks turn pink. “Okay, I get it, I’ll be more careful—”

“You ‘get it’?” He shook his head, reached out and grabbed my left hand. He held the Mark up. “Do you not understand that this is the only thing that can possibly save this world? You must take care, _da’len_ , to not die before you can save everyone.”

I jerked my hand back, used it to wipe the blood I felt trickling from my mouth. “I just figured that if its attention was on me, no one else would get hurt. And why are we back to _da’len_?”

Solas’ slightly reddish eyebrows shot up in indignant surprise. His face really was quite expressive. “If you are going to act like a child, can you expect otherwise? Cassandra can take a blow or two; she is a warrior, and her armor is much better suited to suffering an attack than yours. Varric knows a bit of stealth, as a rogue. You need to _think_ , _da’len_ , not simply act with no apprehension to the consequences—”

“Hey, Chuckles, I think Sun-Blossom gets it. Enough of the lecture. Let her drink her potion and we can all move on, no harm done.”

The other mage snapped his mouth shut and clenched his jaw. He nodded his head once, turned, then stopped. He looked back at me once more. “A potion this time, if you please.”

Without saying anything, I pulled one from a rung on my belt and downed it. It tasted somewhat bitter, like the smell of too much cut grass in summer. I made a face, but immediately felt better. The small rasp that I hadn’t _really_ noticed seemed to sublimate inside of me. It was an odd sensation.

Cassandra shook her head as she cleaned her blade before sheathing it. “I hope Leliana made it through all this.”

“She’s resourceful, Seeker.” That was Varric: a smartass ninety percent of the time, but when you needed a kind word, he had one ready.

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We are almost there,” Solas supplied, his voice still slightly terse from his annoyance at me, presumably. I pushed past him, not all too happy myself. I was angry that he had chastised me as if I really were no more than a _da’len_ , but also that I seemed to matter only as a sum of my parts. Not even _my_ parts, actually, since the only thing he cared about was the Mark. Of course it would save the world, but surely I mattered too? Even slightly? Even if he had only _just_ met me?

I felt his eyes on my back as I brushed past him, bumping him with my shoulder. I began to jog up the rock path. The sky was growing dark, the further up we moved. It was not night, judging by the sun in the distance (my internal clock was not to be trusted yet). It was the Breach. It darkened the sky, even as it ripped it apart. I picked up my pace, my legs sure despite all the sudden exercise after who knew how long of inactivity. After a while, the sounds of fighting once again could be heard.

My lungs stung and my calves burned, but I doubled my pace again. The pain in my hand spiked. An open rift was near. The fire flared bright and hot, and I crested the peak of a hill, and there were three demons, two shades and a wisp. I started attacking the wisp, dodging at the last second as one of the shades raised both its arms to strike me. I bolted forward, wishing I could move faster. Wasn’t there some sort of magic to carry me quickly? I could have sworn there was…Ah! Yes! Fade Step! I focused on gathering the cold around my feet. The ground beneath me turned to slick ice and I was forced forward by a propulsion of magical energy. The shade missed me by only a breath, and then Cassandra was there, finally caught up and slashing at it.

Solas and Varric were next, and Solas ran up beside me as I finished the wisp. He cast a barrier just as the second shade rounded on us. It attacked, but left us unscathed. A bolt appeared in the middle of its forehead, startling me enough to make me scream and jump, cast Fade Step and propel myself straight into its waiting claws. I screamed again as I felt its claws tear into my arms. There was pain, but the damage healed instantly. The barrier—I didn’t have time to think. I gathered the energy inside me and suddenly burst into flames. The shade caught fire and let out a horrible noise before it released me, panicking and running in circles. Cassandra ended it with a blow from behind.

“Hurry—use the mark!” Solas demanded. Sound advice, even if I was still mad at him. I held out my hand, focused my concentration and the mark shot a stream of energy at the rift above, closing it in a barrage of energy. Every time I closed a rift, the mark in my hand pulled at me less; it seemed to stabilize it.

“The rift is gone! Open the gate!” Cassandra called. That was when I noticed the stone towers, acting as a checkpoint over a deep ravine below.

“Right away, Lady Cassandra!” a soldier cried from his post beside the door. An archer. I briefly wondered if he had a family whom he was protecting. The loud creaking from the doors masked the sound of Solas approaching behind me, so when he spoke so close to me, I jumped and stifled a small scream.

“We are clear for the moment. Well done.” His eyes scanned me as I laid a hand against my chest, trying to will my heartbeat to slow. “I apologize; I did not mean to surprise you, _da’len_. You are unhurt? The shade did no damage…?”

“When I launched myself into its open arms?” I said, unable _not_ to smile at my own stupidity. “I’m not used to fighting. It will get easier for me, and I’ll get less jumpy. And I’m fine. Your barrier did the trick; _ma serannas._ ”

He seemed like he was going to say something else, but Varric beat him to it. “Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.”

The blonde dwarf walked up beside me and motioned to the mark. I gazed down at it in thought. After a moment, I nodded. It was useful. It made me useful. Solas was right; I had a duty to the people of this world to do my best _not_ to die. Not before I closed that Breach, as he had also said. Afterwards, well, I guess that was up to me. I snorted and smiled wryly. Without another word, I marched forward beneath the stone archway, then through the enormous wooden doors. We spilled out onto a stone bridge, surrounded by soldiers practicing their fighting technique. There, halfway across, set up at a large wooden table in front of a tent, was Leliana. She was arguing with someone. Even from the distance, I could tell I wasn’t going to be particularly fond of this individual.

Steeling myself, I walked past the staring soldiers and headed towards Leliana.

“—you have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility,” the man was saying, as I approached. I paused, noticing a cache of supplies. I replaced my one used potion, and then continued forward.

“ _I_ have caused trouble?” Leliana demanded, arms folded across her chest in anger.

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy—haven’t you all done enough already? Ah, here they come.” His head lifted, and he stared at me most uncomfortably. I held my chin a little higher as I approached.

“You made it.” At least Leliana was happy to see me. I thought. “Chancellor Roderick, this is—”

“I know who she is,” he said, interrupting the Spy. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

Well. That was something. I looked from him to Leliana. Both she and Cassandra turned to this _Grand_ Chancellor, and judging by the way his face drained of color, I would say he didn’t like Cassandra’s expression. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye as she slowly approached the man, menacing in her disbelief and anger.

“‘Order me’? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!”

“And you,” he replied, adjusting his shoulders and posture, “are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as well you know.” Leliana—always the voice of calm reason.

“Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey _her_ orders on the matter!” Roderick demanded, posturing and flapping about. This was such a waste of time. There was a giant _hole in the sky_.

“Isn’t closing the Breach the more pressing issue?” I demanded, my eyes not leaving Roderick’s for a moment.

“ _You_ brought this on us in the first place!” he accused, _actually_ pointing a finger at me. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

“We can stop this before it’s too late,” Cassandra countered, her brows drawn. She leaned forward across the table from Roderick, resting her weight on the desk. Her eyes were unwavering.

“How?” he demanded. “You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with your soldiers.”

“We must get to the temple,” Cassandra said, not listening to his complaints. “It’s the quickest route.”

Leliana shook her head, looking between the two. “But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path,” Cass countered. “It is too risky.”

“Listen to me,” Roderick said, hoping to regain a position of power within the conversation. “Abandon this now before more lives are lost!”

The Breach above swirled suddenly, a tornado of green light and flashing color. It grew bright and a bolt of energy, lightning-like, struck the earth. The mark on my hand reacted, swelling and spitting its electrical fire. I grabbed my wrist to steady it, to numb some of the pain. Everyone’s eyes were on me. I raised my hand, staring into the flaring light emanating out of it like the sun. Cassandra turned to me, her gaze serious.

“How do _you_ think we should proceed?”

I stared at her a moment, somewhat taken aback. “ _Fenedhis_. Now you’re asking me what _I_ think?” This world made no sense.

“You have the mark,” Solas interjected from behind me. Ah, yes. The only thing I was good for. For a second, I had almost forgotten. But no, that was impossible. The fire was too bright to forget.

“And,” Cass added, “you are the one we must keep alive. Since we cannot agree on our own…”

There was a squad lost in the mountains somewhere. Maybe, if we took that way, we could find and rescue them. I swallowed and nodded. “Use the mountain path. Work together. You all know what’s at stake.”

To her credit, Cass did not question the decision or express her distaste. “Leliana,” she simply said, “bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

Without waiting another moment, we moved forward as a party. I was pulling up the rear, just behind Solas, when Chancellor Roderick added his last parting shot, “On your head be the consequences, Seeker.”

Cassandra kept walking. She did not look back.

It didn’t take long to get to the mountain pass. I was just getting to fully appreciate the lack of stairs on this particular dirt path when we came to the tower dug into the side of the mountain, and all its wooden scaffolding. I held in a sigh as I looked up at ladder after ladder after ladder. Well, so much for that then. I steeled myself and began the climb first, with Cassandra then Varric right behind me. Solas trailed a bit behind, but that was fine. The idea of him directly below me made me nervous. Though, I doubted I would have minded too terribly being beneath him. He had such lovely legs, after all. Strong thighs.

I stopped that train of thought before it could get out of control. Must. Focus. On. Task. I climbed the ladder, focusing on each rung as I went. Ladder led to ladder led to ladder, until finally we reached the top. I stood there, pretending to take in the view as I tried to regain my wind without breathing heavily. Running I seemed to be able to do for days. Climbing? Another animal entirely. And the others didn’t even seem phased. It was annoying, and somewhat humbling. Once I had regained enough composure to be able to speak without panting, I turned. Solas was there, watching me. I tilted my head to the side.

“Is everything all right?” I asked, torn between making the question a challenge and apprehension.

He narrowed his eyes as if gauging my reaction, and nodded. “Yes. But we should hurry.”

“The tunnel should be just ahead,” Cassandra said, stepping between us. She motioned just around a jut of stone. “The path to the temple lies just beyond it.”

“What manner of tunnel is this?” Solas asked, his head cocking to the side. “A mine?”

Cassandra nodded. “Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths.”

As I squeezed past the two, attempting to continue onwards, the rogue of our party asked, “And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?”

“Along with whatever has detained them,” Solas answered rather ominously. No wonder Varric called him Chuckles. What a cheery thought. I paused. Wait, _had_ Varric called him Chuckles? What was I remembering, and what did I just…know?

“We shall see soon enough,” Cassandra said, finishing the conversation. I agreed with her. We _would_ see soon enough. I rounded the small protrusion of stone and came to the entrance of the mines. Two stone torches lit the outside of the arch, offering paltry heat against the altitude and snow. I heard movement from within, and paused just before stepping into the entrance. I stood to one side and cautiously peeked in. I motioned for the others to be quiet and listen.

“One big shade, two wisps,” I whispered, nodding ahead.

My fellow mage cast a barrier over us, and, after a quick, stabilizing breath, we charged the entrance. The Seeker, true to form, called out a challenge; Varric took a long shot, and Solas and I began to cast. We took them by surprise and defeated them easily enough. When Cassandra had ensured us the immediate path was clear, we made our way into the tunnels. The wooden supports were glazed over with ice, and hung heavy with icicles. Hay mixed with loose cobble stones, and fog or mist clouded my vision ahead. Oddly, candles were lit in a corner next to the stairs leading up along our path. I gave them a puzzled look as we made our way up. Chantry banners, red and new, lined the walls of the mountain path. Well, that explained the candles, I supposed. But who had taken the time to light them?

The way through the tunnels was surprisingly easy until we got to the exit. There two wisps, a shade and a greater shade, were waiting. As far as I could tell, the greater shade was larger than its lesser counterpart, and had more appropriate armor, rather than the tattered rags and leather the lesser shade chose to wear. Solas cast a barrier, and this time I watched how he did it. I reached out with my magic, getting a feel of what he did to cast the defensive spell. His head snapped over to look at me as I did so. The look on his face was complete shock, but he didn’t have time to say what had surprised him—the shades were charging, and so was Cass. Varric hunkered down in a good, defensible position behind a large barrel, and he began to take shots at the solid demons, leaving Solas and I to handle the energetic wisps.

The battle ended again with no injuries. I was getting better at this! With an impatience to my step, I mounted the stairs two at a time, the daylight beckoning ahead. My eagerness was quickly abated as I saw the bodies lying strewn pell-mell in the snow. I had to swallow hard to keep my eyes from watering. What wasted life…

Varric sighed heavily behind me. “Guess we found the soldiers.”

I pushed forward, quicker when Cass said, “That cannot be all of them.”

“So the others could be holed up ahead?” Varric asked, jogging to keep up with me.

“Our priority must be the Breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe,” Solas countered, as if we could somehow have forgotten of the giant hole in the sky, orbiting and ominous above.

“I’m leaving _that_ to our Elven friend here,” Varric said, only somewhat sarcastically. _Fenedhis_ but I liked that dwarf. I was running now, unable to rest if I knew the remainder of the soldiers could be out there, struggling and alive. The mark on my hand grew angry, pulsing with pain and light as we ran past the trees, through the snow and ice, over the gravel path. We were approaching a rift.

There, around a bend in the path, beneath an imposing statue of some religious figure, were the soldiers, fighting a band of demons. Two wisps, again, and a shade partnered with a greater shade. Wow, make that _two_ imposing statues. There were at least two archers alive, and one warrior using a sword to beat back the shades.

Much to my surprise, I let out a loud cry to gain the attention of the shades, and give the exhausted warriors a moment of respite. It worked. The shades and wisps all turned their focus to our band of teammates. And that’s what we were becoming—a _team_. I mirrored what Solas had done before, trying to cast a barrier. I was able to, but only around myself. I held it in place as I sent a wave of magic flying at the shades, allowing my mana to build up to summon a chain of lightning. With our joint efforts, we defeated the first wave of demons with minimal damage. One of the shades had struck me, shattering the slight barrier I had left and skimming my right arm with its claws. Otherwise, we were ready when the next batch of demons appeared. Terror demons, I somehow knew. Three of them? I didn’t take the time to count.

I cast a fresh barrier, this time able to hit all of my teammates with it before sending chain lightning down to immobilize two of the terrors. They screamed, bent over backwards in a way that should not have been possible, clawed their way into the ground and disappeared. Oh, that was bad. I used Fade Step to propel myself quickly to a new position, just as one of the terror demons emerged where I had been standing.

“Lieutenant! You’re alive!” Cass was yelling as I tried to keep track of where the demons were positioning themselves.

“Just barely!” she replied, dodging a blow from one of the demons. I didn’t catch if they spoke again, as I was too busy avoiding one of the demons as it shot up from beneath my feet. I let out a startled squeak as two bolts and a blast of fire magic took the thing down with a terrible shriek, leaving me unscathed, only shaken. The demons were gone. I scrambled to my feet, and before more could emerge, I aimed my hand at the rift above and sealed it with a burst of energy. The rift sealed with a snap of green light, and I stood, staring at where it had been, shaking slightly from the onslaught of energy through my body. _Creators_ but that was exhausting.

I heard Solas approach me, his head tilted as he examined me, probably to make sure the mark was unharmed. I snorted, amused by my own pessimism. That was no way to be. I couldn’t know his thoughts; it was silly and juvenile to assume what they might be.

“Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

I glanced at him over my shoulder and half-smiled. Varric casually strolled up beside the mage, interrupting anything I might have said.

“Let’s hope,” the dwarf rejoined, “it works on the big one.”

Cassandra caught my attention as she braced her lieutenant, helping the other woman stand.

The lieutenant smiled, clearly exhausted. “Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

“Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant. She insisted we come this way.”

“The prisoner?” the helmeted warrior demanded, turning my way, eyes wide in surprise. “Then you…?”

I gave the woman a smile. “Closing rifts and saving soldiers. It’s what I do.”

“Then you have my sincere gratitude,” she said, inclining her head respectfully.

“The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment,” Cassandra informed her, motioning back the way we had come. “Go, while you still can.”

“At once. Quickly, let’s move!” she ordered, waiting until her soldiers had fled the battlefield to join the retreat. I watched them go, then turned as Solas spoke.

“The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well.”

“Let’s hurry,” Cassandra said, walking ahead, towards the path that led to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, “before that changes. Down the ladder. That’s the way to the temple.”

I took just one more moment of staring at the rift above us. The Breach was almost beautiful, in a terrible, awe-inspiring kind of way. I wondered briefly what had happened to the spirits immediately caught up in its wrath on the other side of the veil. Such thoughts did not do to linger upon. I shrugged them off, and climbed down the ladder. It led to another ladder.

Why was I not surprised?

This led to wooden planks leading down the side of the mountain, which in turn led to stairs that seemed to be carved out of snow themselves. More likely ice, but it was hard to feel the difference. My feet were numb.

“So…” Varric said, breaking the silence. “Holes in the Fade don’t just _accidentally_ happen, right?”

Somehow, I knew what Solas’ rejoinder would be before he spoke it.

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it _is_ possible.”

“But there are easier ways to make things explode,” Varric commented helpfully.

“That is true.” If I hadn’t known any better (and honestly, I _didn’t_ ), I would have said there was a smile to Solas’ voice.

“We will consider _how_ this happened once the immediate danger is past,” Cassandra said, breaking off the conversation yet again. As much as Varric hated the awkward quiet, it seemed the only way to please our raven-haired Seeker. We descended the remainder of the stairs in silence. I was lost in thought, thinking again of those spirits who might have died. I glanced back at Solas as we reached the bottom of the steps, chewed my lower lip in thought, then decided it was worth an ask.

“Solas,” I began, rather timidly. Surprised, he turned to me, auburn eyebrows raised.

“Yes?”

“What happens to spirits if they die? I mean, _do_ they die?”

He looked genuinely taken aback. Quickly he schooled his features, his face an unreadable mask. What was he hiding…?

“Why do you ask? Is there a specific spirit to whom you are referring?”

I looked up at the Breach, my heart squeezing hard. “I was just worried. Maybe our side of the Veil isn’t the only one to have suffered loss when that…that _thing_ was created.”

His eyes were on me. I could feel it, but I refused to look back at him. He made me so…nervous.

“Spirits do not die in the way of mortals. The energy of the spirit returns to its place of creation, and a new spirit is born.”

That made me feel a little better. “So it doesn’t die? But…what do you mean a ‘new’ spirit is born? Is it not the same?”

“Unless it is powerful indeed the spirit will not retain its memories. It will develop a new personality, perhaps, such as spirits possess.”

I nodded, frowning up at the Breach. “So…is that what happens when we kill demons here? On this side of the veil?”

“As much as I would love to indulge in this conversation, _lethallan_ , perhaps it would be prudent to continue it at a later time?”

My heart stopped. Back to _lethallan_. I had asked the right questions? What had I done to go from child back to adult? To kin?

“Chuckles has a point. Now ain’t the best time for theorizing about demons. We’ve got a hole to plug.”

I looked over at Varric and nodded. I had, for a moment, forgotten about the need to close the giant tear in the sky. Nothing was really more important than that, despite the way my heart was pounding in my chest. I took off, heading for another set of stairs leading down, into the temple itself. Or…where the temple should have been. Instead, lyrium jutted out from the ground like giant stalagmites reaching for the Breach above. Bracing myself for the worst, I ran forward, into a clearing filled with dead, charred bodies. I held back bile as I moved past the corpses. I couldn’t stop to mourn. If I stopped, I would never start again. I couldn’t think about the wasted life, the pointlessness of it all. I just couldn’t.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas said behind me, sorrow in his voice.

“What’s left of it,” Varric muttered beneath his breath.

“This is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you.” That was Cassandra. I kept moving forwards as she spoke. “They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

The stone walls were little more than blazing ruins, smoldering and ashy from the fire and explosion. The temple was gone. More charred corpses greeted us, reaching towards the sky, covering their faces to avoid the explosion that had torn through everything. I moved through quickly, sickened by the smell of burned flesh. Suddenly, I was glad I was a vegetarian. This piece of information about myself came from nowhere, but I held onto it. I would never have wanted to eat meat again anyway, not after that stench.

The lower level of the temple still seemed to be mostly intact, if blown roofless. I made my way down, seeking the source of this Breach. I found more dead bodies, burned into screaming effigies. The source of the Breach wasn’t quite as large as I expected. It was a rift, but maybe only four times the size of the ones I had seen so far. Giant green crystals glowed as they floated mid-air, giving off wave upon wave of unstable energy. It was too high; I would never reach it.

“The Breach _is_ a long way up,” Varric said, as if reading my thoughts. The sound of footsteps behind us made me turn. Leliana ran towards us, a group of soldiers just behind her.

“You’re here. Thank the Maker,” she said, coming to a stop beside Cassandra. The Seeker nodded.

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” Cassandra turned to me, looking me dead in the eye. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

I looked past her and up to the rift. “I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can reach that, much less close it.”

“No,” Solas interjected. “This rift was first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

“Let’s find a way down. And be careful,” Cassandra warned.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I ran around the outer edge of the temple, looking for a way down into the broken pit below. A voice, loud and clear and so strong, rang out, echoing around us.

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra demanded, of whom, I didn’t know. I kept moving forward. I knew that voice. Somehow, I had heard this before.

“At a guess: the person who created the Breach,” Solas supplied. I nodded, still looking for a way down. I ran now, sprinting. Just ahead, a red glow was emanating from what seemed to be lyrium crystals. My eyes grew wide and I slowed. Was that…?

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker,” Varric confirmed.

“I see it, Varric,” she said, not sounding nearly as worried as she should have.

“But what’s it _doing_ here?” he asked, more of himself, I think, than Cass.

Solas answered, again. “Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…”

“It’s evil,” Varric spat, walking up beside me as I stared at the stuff. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

I nodded, forcing my gaze away from its electric red glow. No time for lyrium. We had a Breach to close.

“Keep the sacrifice still.” The booming voice echoed across the ruined temple.

“Someone help me!” came a reply, accented and old. I knew that voice…Justinia?

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” Cassandra exclaimed, confirming my suspicions.

I pushed harder, faster. We passed a huge outcropping of red lyrium, turned a corner, and came to the stairway down into the pit below. I sprint down it, realized it was a balcony above the pit, but was close enough to the ground for me to jump down into it, which I did. The others joined me, and I approached the rift above in the center of the clearing. It glowed with a fierce light; the crystals were shimmering, their forms sliding in and out of the veil. The mark on my hand came alive, glowing and pulsing and spitting that horrible light.

“Someone help me!” the voice cried again, the voice of Justinia.

“What’s going on here?” my voice replied, demanding an answer. I looked from my hand to the rift above, not in the least bit surprised.

“That was your voice,” Cassandra whispered, staring at me with wide eyes. “Most Holy called out to you. But…”

The sky above us exploded into images. A giant figure in black loomed above a captured Divine Justinia, his posture and very presence threatening. A copy of me appeared above, entering the scene, standing between the two. “What’s going on here?” the copy-me exclaimed, looking between the two.

“Run while you can! Warn them!” the Divine urged, her face sad but urgent.

“We have an intruder,” the figure in black proclaimed. “Slay the elf,” it said, pointing at my copy.

Light exploded, nearly blinding me. I used my arms to cover my eyes, wincing in pain. That must have been the explosion. Once the light died, Cassandra rounded on me.

“You _were_ there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was the vision true? What are we seeing?”

I lost my temper. I spun to face her. “ _Fenedhis lasa_! I don’t remember!”

“Echoes of what happened here,” Solas said gently, his voice a song to calm our tempers. “The Fade bleeds into this place. This rift is not sealed, but it is closed…albeit temporarily.” He looked at me, holding my gaze captive. “I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely, _lethallan_.”

I shook my head. “It can’t be that simple.”

Solas inclined his head, acknowledging my point. “Opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons,” Cassandra said, motioning to the soldiers. “Stand ready!”

The soldiers, who had gathered, dispersed with weapons drawn. The archers found places above, notched their arrows, and waited, ready to let them fly. Varric helped direct the warriors into suitable positions, prepared to flank. I took a deep breath and held it.

“Fen’Harel keep us all,” I said as a prayer before aiming the mark at the angry sky above, briefly taking note of how Solas’ head snapped towards my direction. Energy and light poured out of me, funneling into the closed rift. It absorbed all it could then exploded in a shower of light and raw power. A figure, giant and terrible, landed nearby, glowing too bright to see. A demon of pride stood tall, and roared to the heavens above. I swallowed hard.

The demon took a step towards the warriors, its many eyes seeking. Its grey skin looked like stone as it shook the ground with every step it took.

“Now!” Cassandra called, raising her sword high above. The archers let their arrows loose, and the creature screamed in agony and rage. Solas and I both cast barriers around as many of our fighters as we could. Cassandra let out a challenge, loud and enraged, demanding the demon’s attention. It laughed, amused by our hubris, by our audacity to fight against it. I knew I would have to keep my distance. I was fairly certain I had never seen one of these demons in person before, but I knew that it had a dangerous weapon—an impossibly long whip that would give a deadly shock to any it touched.

“We must strip its defenses! Wear it down!” Cassandra cried as I ran to the right, attempting to flank the beast. Once I was behind it, I aimed my mark at the rift above and sent out a wave of energy, hoping to overpower the tear and stun the demon it had summoned. The pride demon roared and fell to its knees. It had worked, but unfortunately new demons spewed forth—two shades, so close to where I was. I grunted, ignored them for the time being, and attacked the pride demon while it was stunned from the burst of energy. I set it on fire, heard its scream, and used Fade Step just in time to get out of the way of the nearest shade, its talons _just_ missing me. I set both shades on fire, turned and ran to flank the pride demon again. It was glowing now with a blue and purple light. Had it summoned a barrier of its own? I groaned—great, just great. It wasn’t fair when the bad guys could do that too!

The battle repeated itself in this way. I would overload the rift with energy, stun the pride demon, and more lesser demons would appear. Just as I was setting the pride demon on fire again, Solas froze it, slowing its movements. Any other demon might have been paralyzed or panicked, but this beast kept coming. It brought out its whips and laughed. Now we had to worry about dodging those, even as more shades appeared to attack us when our backs were turned. One was going for Cassandra as she threw herself at the pride demon. I snarled, used Fade Step to travel fast to the shade, and stabbed it through its chest with my staff. I was out of mana after that burst of speed, so I kept stabbing it, screaming at the top of my lungs, until it fell with a shriek.

“That’s one way of doing it, Sun-Blossom!” Varric called, and I could hear the grin in his voice. I nodded at him and sprinted, feeling my energy lag, towards the rift and away from the pride demon. I forced energy from the mark into the rift above, once again overloading it. It exploded in light and the pride demon fell to its knees, stunned once more.

“ _Fenedhis lasa_ ,” I screamed as I drew on the fire inside myself and caused the demon to burst into a shower of flame. Varric and Solas finished the beast with a bolt from the rogue and a piercing blast of ice from the mage.

“Now! Seal the rift!” Cassandra yelled as the last of the shades was slain as well. “Do it.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. I aimed my hand and the mark took care of the rest. It blazed to amazing life, brighter and hotter than anything I had ever seen. The light was overwhelming. The energy streaming out of my hand was overpowering. It took every ounce of strength to continue standing as the mark drained me, forcing the rift above to close in a brilliant flash of light, like a firework turning in on itself. There was a huge burst of pure white light and, distantly, I felt my body slam into the rocks and gravel that had just been beneath my feet. I blinked, trying to see past the light but couldn’t. Something hit my head and the world went suddenly black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tel’somnias, Da’len. Ir abelas. : You do not dream, child. I am sorry.  
> Fenedhis : Elvish curse  
> Fenedhis lasa : Extended elvish curse  
> Seth'lin : Thin-blood; an elvish curse  
> Lethallan/Lethallin : Kin  
> Ma serannas : My thanks  
> Hahren : Elder -- a term of respect, denoting one of wisdom and experience  
> Vallaslin : Blood writing--facial tattoos representing a specific god


	3. Morning Wake

“You were supposed to remember, Child,” a voice said, warm and pleasant, like soft music at midnight, husky like a jazz singer. Wait…jazz? Jazz…yes…music.

“Remember…” I said to the darkness, unsure where the voice was coming from. Inside of me? No, not quite. Close, but not quite. “That’s right…” I laughed, and it was shaky. “I don’t even know my name.”

The voice grew heavy with sorrow. “If I could return to you what was lost, Child, then I would. Unfortunately, I cannot.”

“You…brought me here?” I tried to look around, but everything was still black. “I’m…I’m not from Thedas, am I?”

“No,” she replied. Panic was growing inside me, like some sickly flower unfurling into full bloom right between my lungs. I swallowed and reached out, blindly.

“Please,” I said, unsure of what I was asking. “I can’t see.”

A hand, dry and strong and slender, took my own. “Follow your judgment,” she said. “Save as many as you can. Bring my daughter to me. Protect Thedas.”

I nodded sightlessly, squeezing her hand. “I will. I promise, I will.”

“Child, there is one thing, for your own good, perhaps.”

I waited as patiently as I could for her to continue. She did, and her voice was almost rueful, “Leave the Egg be. Don’t give your heart to him. It will hurt enough as it stands. Don’t add heartbreak to this.”

“The…Egg?” I asked, then remembered my thought previously about Solas. Hadn’t I thought how much like a perfect oval egg he looked? How did she…? It didn’t matter. I let my fingers slide from her own. “I don’t think I can stop,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.

“Such a pity,” she said, voice fading. “Fen’Harel cannot turn from this quest he is on, Child.”

Then, she was gone. _Mythal_. The named floated briefly in my mind. Could she…?

 

 

**~**

 

 

I awoke on top of a bed that was unfamiliar, but more comfortable than the stack of bricks I had slept on in the dungeon. The pillows were covered in a fine layer of dust, as was the comforter, yet that was no matter. Despite the fact that I was fairly certain that it was daytime outside, a candle glowed tall and unwavering by the bed. There were furs hung on the wall, perhaps left there to dry? I hoped so, and it wasn’t for decoration. The thought made me somewhat ill. I turned my head slowly, unsure how I felt physically. So much of me ached, it was hard to tell where one pain ended and another began. I was so focused on how I was feeling that I was taken somewhat by surprise to see a brown-haired elf standing near the doorway, holding a large box. She hadn’t seemed to notice I was awake, but when she did she stopped, the smile dropped from her face, and the box fell from her hands.

“I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”

I sat up slowly, using my arms to support myself and to keep from falling back onto the pillows. Dusty or not, they sure beat being upright.

“Why are you frightened?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. “What happened?”

“That’s wrong, isn’t it?” she responded, clasping her hands and rubbing them nervously. “I said the wrong thing.”

“I don’t…think so,” I said slowly, absolutely confused. What had happened? Was she scared that I would hurt her? Surely if they thought I was still a threat I would be bound, wouldn’t I?

The young woman fell to her knees and pressed her forehead to the rug that covered the stone flooring. She stayed in that bowed position as she spoke. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.”

I sat up straighter at that, my eyes growing wide. Wait, what?

“You are back in Haven, my lady.” The serving girl raised her head to look at me, but not enough to meet my eye. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”

I looked at my hand, remembering it for the first time. The fire had definitely died down, and the glow was smaller, more contained. Rather than feeling of burning fire, it was simply an unpleasant tingling, as if it been asleep for hours.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days,” she finished.

“So you’re saying…they’re happy with me?” That explained why I wasn’t restrained, but not why she had asked for my blessing.

“I’m only saying what I heard,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” She swallowed and stood on fast legs, her posture somewhat crouched as she backed away from me and moved towards the door. “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘At once.’”

I pushed my legs over the side of the bed, watching her retreat. “And where is she?”

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once,’ she said.” The girl gave a somewhat awkward bow and nearly ran from the room. I stared after her a moment, absolutely befuddled. What was all that about? I shook my head and stood, glancing about at my surroundings. The room obviously had belonged to someone else before I occupied it; books lined the shelves, along with fruit, some drying herbs, bottles of alcohol and random knickknacks. Sacks were leaned haphazardly, large and full, in one of the corners of the room. It wasn’t really a room, but more of a cabin, with stone floors but wooden walls and ceiling. There was a fire going in the fireplace, casting a warm golden glow to everything in the room. I noticed a piece of parchment on what looked to be a writing desk. I glanced it over, my eyebrows raised in interest.

 

**_Patient Observations_ **

_Vain hope: Someone better at this than me takes over before the survivor expires. Notes in case._

_—Day One—_

_Clammy. Shallow breathing. Pulse over-fast. Not responsive. Pupils dilated._

_Mage says her scarring “mark” is thrumming with unknown magic._

_Wish we could station a Templar in here, just in case._

 

Well. That was interesting. Someone had been looking over me, someone uncomfortable with magic. That mage, I was guessing, must have been Solas. Had I ever properly thanked him for keeping me alive? I was unsure. I would have to rectify that—but perhaps _after_ I saw Cassandra to learn what, exactly, was going on. With a small mental shrug, I opened the door and blinked in surprise. The light was the first thing to hit me, glancing off the snow blindingly bright, but next was the massive crowd gathered just outside my door. This was not like the crowd from before. There was an air of reverence about this group, and instead of glowering, the guards stationed outside saluted me by putting their hands across their chests and bowing their heads. To say it was unnerving would have been understating the situation severely.

As quickly as I could, without seeming to be actively running, I moved through the crowd. It parted around me, and I could hear someone whisper, “That’s her. That’s the Herald of Andraste.”

“They said when she came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over her,” someone whispered back.

 _Fenedhis lasa_. No. No, no, no, no.

Did I mention, _no_? Because no. So much no.

I swallowed, felt the mark twitch in response to my anxiety. Thankfully it didn’t spark with energy; it definitely was more stable than before. My paced picked up to a light jog until I was past the crowd. I did _not_ need people thinking I was some holy figure. That certainly explained why that young woman had asked for my blessing. Creators, I had to put things right. I was no prophet, no herald. The dirt path turned sharply left and led (of course) to stone stairs. I jogged up these, able to see the Chantry now, up another small flight of steps. As I ran past several tents and a few more cabins, I wondered what this place would look like in spring or summer, with the ice and snow gone. Would it be covered in grass? Would elf root and embrium grow wild?

I paused when I reached the Chantry, taking in a good look. It was a large stone building, like many places of worship made by humans. It was huge, with a towering doorway that probably took three people at _least_ to work. Outside was a gathering of Chantry sisters in their red and white garb. Ivy grew up one side of the Chantry, giving it an ethereal quality that I found to be somewhat comforting. If plants could grow here, it couldn’t be all bad. Somewhat longingly, I looked further down the dirt path. There were more cabin-like buildings just down the way, and somehow I knew Solas would be there, standing under the sky, looking up and thinking. I wanted to run to him, to ask _him_ what was going on, yet I knew it was important to see Cassandra, Leliana and the others. I wasn’t entirely sure how that I knew, but I knew there _were_ others. Two? No, three…but mostly two.

That made no sense. Rather than think of it overmuch, rather than think about _anything_ (I had the feeling if I went down that particular path, it would drive me into hysterics that I _couldn’t remember_ _anything_ ), I walked through the gathering of those loyal to the Chantry. The doors, as if sensing my presence, swung open, revealing a stone interior, lined with pillars, banners and torches filled with incense to provide light and holy meditation. Candles were everywhere, much too close to the length of carpet that stretched down the center of the Chantry. Talk about a fire hazard. Straight down the building, against the far wall, was a large door, underneath the sign of the Chantry. There.

I approached, pausing when I heard voices.

“—have you gone completely mad?” Roderick demanded. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

 _Whoever_ , I mentally corrected.

“I do not believe she is guilty,” Cassandra countered impatiently.

“The elf failed, Seeker,” Roderick sneered. “The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way.”

That was the last straw. As if I had any power! I was a pawn in this—if I hadn’t felt that way before, after that dream I certainly knew myself to be. Mythal…well, it wouldn’t do to dwell on _that_ now, either. But if Mythal was involved, and I just _knew_ she somehow was, it didn’t take much to figure out that Fen’Harel was too, especially given the fact that _she_ had brought him up. My instincts told me as much; some memory, half-forgotten like a dream, filled me with that certainty. The Dalish…I knew they misunderstood him. They misunderstood so much. I didn’t blame them, of course. But I could sort through everything later, when I had a moment to myself. As it stood, I needed to face _this_ particular mess.

I pushed the doors open and stepped into the room, eyebrows raised in defiance at Roderick.

“Chain her,” he demanded, barely glancing at me. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra said from her position over a large book. She and Leliana stood opposite me of a large table with Roderick to their right. The guards who had come in behind me nodded at their Lady, saluted, and left, shutting the wooden door behind them.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” Roderick warned, his eyes narrowed.

“The Breach is stable,” she responded, moving around the table to face him, “but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

Exasperation hit me. “So I’m still a suspect, even after what we just did?”

“You absolutely are,” Roderick said, glowering at me in his stupid sunbeam hat. _Fenedhis lasa_ , that hat had never looked stupider. On anyone.

“No, she is not,” Cassandra returned, just as fiercely. Oh, Cass. I could have kissed her.

Leliana came around the other side of the table, her eyes glued to Roderick. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect.” She glanced casually to Cassandra, her eyebrows rising. “Perhaps they died with the others—or have allies who yet live.”

“ _I_ am a suspect?” Roderick sputtered, truly taken aback.

“You,” Leliana continued, “and many others.”

“But _not_ the prisoner.” He was truly flabbergasted. Leliana and Cassandra were perhaps my favorite two women at that moment in time. I supposed that wasn’t really fair—they were the only women I could truly remember.

“I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to her for help,” Cassandra said through a tight jaw, scowl in place.

“So her survival, that _thing_ on her hand—all a coincidence?”

“Providence,” Cassandra said simply. Well, no. No, no, no. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

“You realize I’m an elf,” I said slowly, just in case they might be missing that little fact. “A. Dalish. Elf.”

“I have not forgotten,” Cass replied, somewhat bitterly. “No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

“The Breach remains,” Leliana said, more level-headedly, “and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

“This is _not_ for you to decide,” Roderick reminded them, arms folded across his chest. That _stupid hat_.

Cassandra turned, grabbed something from behind her, then spun around and slammed a giant tome of a book onto the desk. On its leather-bound cover was a many-pointed sun, its center, a blazing eye. I swallowed. Oh, no.

“You know what this is, Chancellor,” she said casually, one hand gently resting on its cover. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declared the Inquisition reborn.” She squared her shoulders, standing taller against Roderick as he grew more and more defensive in his posture. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order, with or without your approval.”

The two stared hard, each more serious than the other. Roderick was the first to turn away, to back down. He turned without another word and walked out. Cassandra watched him go, then half-turned and abashedly rubbed the back of her head. Leliana approached the tome that rested on the desk.

“This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.” She shook her head. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice: we must act now,” Cassandra rejoined. “With you at our side.” She turned to me and nodded.

I swallowed, my stomach in knots. “When I woke up,” I began, making myself meet her in the eye, “I certainly didn’t picture this outcome.”

“Neither did we,” Leliana added, helpfully.

“Help us fix this,” Cass said, “before it’s too late.”

She held out her hand, her gaze not leaving my own. I held my breath, then took her hand and shook it. I had come this far. I could not abandon Thedas now.

That was it for the moment. They had preparations to make, plans to see to, people to contact. I was told to return to the Chantry in a few hours (which turned into tomorrow afternoon, actually), for the announcement of the Inquisition. Until then, I was at liberty to explore Haven, to catch up with Varric or Solas, to meet new people, or just to rest. I went to look first for Solas because _of course I did_. I wanted to see how he was, to see for myself that he hadn’t been injured. Or that’s what I told myself. I was truly afraid he had simply left. The fear sat in my gut and gnawed at me. It only continued to grow as I searched the camp, unable to find him. Both he and Varric were nowhere to be found. When I discovered a servant who was actually able to speak to me without falling on their knees or openly weeping, I was relieved to discover that they were both still resting. Solas had specifically requested not to be disturbed, and the young elven male servant doubted whether Varric _could_ be woken, judging by the strength of the snoring coming from his tent. I nodded, thanked the young man, and awkwardly stood a moment, gazing at the towering Chantry.

Herald of Andraste. Well, _shit_. I had no idea who I was, but I knew _for a fact_ that I was no Herald, least of all of Andraste. Recalling my dream from earlier made me giggle somewhat manically. _Wrong god_ , I thought to myself; _you’ve all got the wrong god_. I had to do something, or I was going to drown in my panic. So I went back to the cabin where I had awoken, picked up a random book from the shelves, and began to read. It was about the flora of Thedas, and while perhaps a touch dry, it was absolutely fascinating. I knew so little about the plant life; it was good to learn. I was able to lose myself in it, and not think. Not panic. Have a problem? Best way to fix that is to _not deal with it_ , or at least that’s what I told myself as I turned the page onto the third chapter: _Mushrooms_. I read until sleep overcame me. I stumbled to my bed, slept, then repeated the process the next day. I searched for my friends, found no one, and returned to reading. Chapter five turned to chapter ten, and I took a break to watch the fire.

Another hour or so passed, and a servant hesitantly knocked at my door. I was informed that my presence was requested at the Chantry as soon as was convenient. I nodded to them and set the book aside, sure to mark my place. There had been some extra vellum on the desk, so I had been taking notes. The ink was dry on the page, so I rolled it up and slid it into my belt.

Waiting for me at the Chantry was Leliana, with two people whom I had not met, though again, I knew their names before we were introduced—Lion-hearted Cullen, who had seen too much of war; gentle Josephine with her spine of steel and penchant for foreign sweets. I stood between them, standing as tall as I could, with Leliana just behind us. A crowd was gathered, but it parted as Lady Cassandra made her way up to the Chantry. She moved to stand behind me, and the man to my right announced us to the crowd. The Inquisition was reborn. The Breach would be sealed. We would not rest until Thedas, until Ferelden, was safe once more. We were the Inquisition. There was cheering, but I couldn’t take it to heart—not with the Breach still bright and powerful in the sky.

After the short speech, after the cheers, the others had disappeared into the Chantry. I had been summoned merely to be a silent figure, so I could show my support with my presence. I followed inside after a moment more of regarding the Breach, terrible and beautiful, in the sky above. Cassandra met me at the doorway into the Chantry, leading me slowly back to what she had dubbed “The War Room.”

“Does it trouble you?” she asked after a moment, motioning to my mark with her eyes.

I looked at it, feeling the weight of everything rush through me. It would drown me, if I wasn’t careful. “If it wasn’t enough to close the Breach, what use is it?”

“You did everything we asked of you,” Cassandra said.

“And it still didn’t work,” I returned, trying not to scowl at the failure. _My_ failure.

“What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed—provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“Couldn’t that kind of power just make things worse?”

The ghost of a smile brushed across Cassandra’s lips. “And people call _me_ a pessimist.”

Without another word, we entered the war room. There the other three were waiting, behind the large table in the center of the room. Cassandra began the introductions.

“May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

The handsome blonde smiled almost shyly, then dipped his head. “Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.” The large plumage he wore about his shoulders was somewhat distracting—like a blood red lion’s mane to act as mantle atop his shiny armor.

The Seeker continued. “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

The beautiful Antivan woman smiled at me most generously. “ _Andaran Atish’an_ ,” she said, the glow of the candle on her clipboard lighting her face and eyes most fetchingly.

“ _Aneth ara_ ,” I responded with a smile. “You speak Elven?”

“You just heard the entirety of it, I’m afraid,” she admitted. Her shirt seemed to be made out of spun gold, blazing against the light. So…ruffle-y.

“And of course you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra finished.

“My position here involves a degree of…” the red-head began, only to be interrupted by the Lady Seeker.

“She is our spymaster.”

I bit back a smile at how readily Cassandra gave out that particular piece of information. “Good to know.”

“Yes,” Leliana said, eyeing Cass with an ounce of distaste. “Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

Gazing around the room, I took in my new acquaintances. These individuals were going to become very important to me, and I was going to be working in very close quarters with them all. It was best to start off on the right foot. “Pleased to meet you all.”

“You know,” Leliana said, looking me in the eye, “we still do not know your name.”

My chest grew tight and panic spiked through me like a heady wine. I closed my eyes and nodded. “The second I remember it, I promise, I will let you know.”

“You don’t remember your name?” Cullen asked, taken aback. “Err, I mean, well…what should we call you? Herald will suit for a title, but a name might be more…”

“Friendly?” I said, with a forced smile. I stared at him, unable to think of a single name. So, really rather stupidly, I said the first thing that came into my head. “Fen.”

“Fen?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “I knew someone by the name of Fenris once. Does not that mean ‘wolf?’”

I nodded, already regretting my decision. “It does. But I figure, since I don’t have a name, I’ll just give myself a title that I _like_. I don’t see myself as the Herald of Andraste, but if I had to pick a god to worship, it would be Fen’Harel.”

“The elven god of mischief?” Leliana asked, clearly not liking where this was going.

“The god of righteous rebellion,” I corrected firmly. “The Dalish have twisted his mythology and made him into something he is not.” I stopped myself. Again, there was that information I shouldn’t have known. It had to have something to do with what Mythal had nearly admitted earlier: that I was _not_ from Thedas. Butterflies beat against my chest relentlessly, and my heart squeezed. Breathe past the panic. Breathe. Work through the anxiety.

“Fen it is,” Josephine said, not unkindly.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” Cassandra said, changing the subject.

Leliana’s gaze was intense. “Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.”

Cullen turned to her, hand resting casually on the pommel of his absurdly large sword, but his face contorted with impatience. “And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark—”

“Might destroy us all,” he said, now rounding on Cassandra. “Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—”

“Pure speculation,” Leliana put in calmly.

“I _was_ a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

“Unfortunately,” Josephine said, trying to calm the situation, “neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition—and you, specifically.”

I snorted. “That didn’t take long.”

“Shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?” Cullen asked, half-smiling. Josephine shook her head.

“Some are calling you—a Dalish elf—the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra sneered.

“It limits our options,” Josie admitted. “Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question.”

“So,” I said, mostly to myself, “if I wasn’t with the Inquisition…”

“Let’s be honest,” Cullen said kindly, “they would have censured us no matter what.”

“And you not being here isn’t an option.”

I looked at Cassandra and inclined my head, registering her words. It was true—the mark was an unfortunate necessity.

“There is something you can do,” Leliana put in, smiling. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

“I’ll see what she has to say,” I said immediately.

“You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe,” Leliana informed me.

Cullen stepped forward. “Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you are there.”

Josephine nodded her agreement. “We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.”

“In the meantime,” the Seeker said, “let’s think of other options. I won’t leave this all to the Herald.”

“My scouts still comb the hills for clues about the explosion. I’ll take what I can find,” Leliana said, looking down at the large map of Thedas that had been spread across the table. Josephine excused herself, claiming that there was much to be done.

As I turned to leave, our Spymaster stopped me.

“Ah, Herald. There is a matter I think you may be interested in.”

I turned back, my eyebrows raised in anticipation. She handed me a missive, and I skimmed it quickly. The Teryn of Highever, Fergus Cousland, had invited those at Haven to come and hold vigil for the fallen Most Holy. I glanced at Cullen, tilting my head.

“What do you recommend, Commander? You are in charge of our forces—do we have anyone to spare to mourn the Divine?”

“We have a number of Ferelden officers,” he said, meeting my gaze steadily. “We could send an honor guard to Highever.”

I nodded, setting the missive on the table. “Do so, thank you.” I gave them all a tentative smile, then turned to leave, Cassandra at my side. As I passed the door to the right of the war room, I could hear raised voices. Josie’s was one, and so, curious, I entered the room. There Josie was, arguing with some Orlesian in a hideous mask with a mustache attached.

“The Inquisition _cannot_ remain, Ambassador,” he was saying, “if you can’t prove it was founded on Justinia’s orders.”

“This is an inopportune time, Marquis,” Josephine replied quite calmly. “More of the faithful flock here each day.” She turned and nodded to me. “But allow me to introduce you to the brave soul who risked her life to slow the magic of the Breach. Herald, this is the Marquis DuRellion, one of Divine Justinia’s greatest supporters.”

“And the rightful owner of Haven,” he put in quickly. “House DuRellion lent Justinia these lands for a pilgrimage. This ‘Inquisition’ is not a beneficiary of this arrangement.”

“People have been injured,” I reminded him. “You can’t just turn them out onto the snow.”

“Who benefits if they stay?” he demanded, really rather crassly.

“Divine Justinia, Marquis,” Josephine answered firmly. “The Inquisition—not the Chantry—is sheltering the pilgrims who mourn her.”

“Why is the Chantry ignoring the faithful?”

“Because it remains in shock. We face a dark time, Your Grace. Divine Justinia would not want her passing to divide us. She would, in fact, trust us to forge new alliances to the benefit of all, no matter how strange they might seem.”

The Duke turned from where he had paced, facing both of us once more. He regarded us seriously, then, finally, inclined his head respectfully. “I’ll think on it, Lady Montilyet. The Inquisition might stay, in the meanwhile.” With a short bow, he walked out. I watched him go, then turned to Josie.

“Do the DuRellions actually have a claim on this place?”

“His Grace’s position is not so strong as he presents it. Despite their Ferelden relations, the DuRellions are Orlesian. If the Marquis wishes to claim Haven, Empress Celene must negotiate with Ferelden on his behalf.” She smiled, cocking her head. “Her current concerns are a bit larger than minor property disputes.”

“I’m so pleased the Marquis isn’t tossing us out into the cold,” I added, returning her smile with a small one of my own.

“His Grace is only the first of many dignitaries we must contend with.”

That was troubling. “You expect more people in Haven?” That seemed like a bad idea, from a defensive standpoint.

“Undoubtedly. And each visitor will spread the story of the Inquisition after they depart. An ambassador,” she said, moving to sit at the large desk against the far wall, “should ensure the tale is as complimentary as possible.”

I let out a low whistle. “I’m glad for your help. I have a feeling the Inquisition’s going to need it.”

“I do believe you are correct,” she said with a bright smile. Her grey eyes twinkled. “Thedas’ politics have become…agitated as of late. I hope to guide us down smoother paths.” She picked up a quill. “But please excuse me. I’ve much work to do before the day is done.”

I nodded and turned, only just noticing the slender elven woman standing in the corner, next to another desk. I approached her cautiously, curious.

“You’re the Herald,” she began, then must have caught my expression, “or, well, the one they’re calling the Herald, anyway.” She cocked her head. “It’s odd to see them accepting a mage as their hero. Especially a Dalish elf. One look at your face, and it’s clear you were never part of a Circle. My name is Minaeve. I research demons and other creatures. Seeker Pentaghast and I use what I find to help the soldiers fight them.”

Immediately, I thought of that crystal I had found. It was sitting heavy in one of my pockets. “I found something the demons left behind. Can you use it?”

“Yes, that’s very helpful. Just leave it there, and the Tranquil and I will examine it.”

I nodded without further ado, and placed the odd crystal on the table. With a small smile, I bid her goodbye and left Josephine’s office. I knew exactly where I wanted to go, and I had a feeling he would actually be there this time. I exited the Chantry as quickly as was possible, listening to a bit of the Chant of Light as it was spoken by a sister.

The cool, fresh air of Haven’s village was welcome after the stuffy atmosphere, heavy with incense, inside the Chantry itself. I breathed deeply, looked to my left and headed towards the cabins just down one flight of stairs, and up another. I passed what I assumed was a tavern, and told myself I would stop there later to introduce myself. I jogged lightly, eager to see his face, to reassure myself that he hadn’t left me. Or, rather, the Inquisition. Not me. Just because I was oddly obsessed with him did _not_ mean that he felt the same. In fact, his insistence on using the term “ _Da’len_ ” seemed to imply that he felt anything but…you know… _that_. But he had also called me _Lethallan_. That was a start, wasn’t it?

He was there! I paused at the top of the stairs, looking him over. Solas was standing outside one of the wooden buildings, gazing off into the distance. He didn’t notice me. I cleared my throat, gathered my courage, and approached him.

His eyebrows rose when he saw me approach. “The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all.” Ah, sarcasm. That I could deal with much more easily than my growing feelings.

I gave him a wry smile and a small curtsey. “Am I riding in on a shining steed? I’ve always liked the idea of a shining steed.”

“I would have suggested a griffon,” he returned, with the smallest of smiles, “but sadly, they’re extinct. Joke as you will, posturing is necessary.”

He turned away from me and walked out of the shade of the building, towards the stone steps. He stopped when he was a few feet away, and kept his back towards me. “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations.”

As he spoke, I approached him slowly, but stopped before I got too close, listening to him as he continued.

“I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” He was looking down, thinking, remembering. He turned his head, looking at me with a quizzical expression. I wanted nothing more than to hide, and yet, at the same time, I wanted him to never look away.

“Every great war has its heroes,” he said, by way of explanation. “I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

Rather than focusing on myself, partly because that made me uncomfortable, but mostly because I was curious, I changed the subject. “What do you mean, ruins and battlefields?” I could have sworn there was more to his past than that. He hadn’t just been in the Fade, but I couldn’t remember any details. I just had a feeling, which was so many different kinds of maddening.

“Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death.” He paused, watched me for a reaction. I waited patiently for him to continue, showing my interest by not losing eye contact. “Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places,” he said, looking away finally, somewhat distantly, “I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.”

I smiled at his passion, enjoying speaking to him more than I could say. “You fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I _do_ set wards,” he clarified. “And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.”

His responding smile only increased mine. My heart did a tiny flip in my chest, and I could have sworn it was singing _Hallelujah_. “I imagine you find some amazing things in there…alongside all the demons and spirits.”

“Exactly,” he said, serious once more. “It is occasionally dangerous, yes, but more often it’s just sad to see what has been lost.”

My smile faded completely at that. So much _had_ been lost across cultures, not just to the elves. I swallowed and looked down. The Dalish tried to maintain the ways of our people, but we had lost so much…with a delicate finger, I traced the _vallaslin_ that spanned a good deal of my face. It then occurred to me; I knew what my blood-writing was, but had no idea what my face actually looked like. I swallowed, trying to think of anything else. Solas watched me with such intensity. He offered me a small, sad smile.

“The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream?” he said, his voice music. “I would not trade it for anything.” I raised my eyes again, meeting his gaze with all its burning curiosity and intensity. We watched each other for what seemed like hours, yet I knew could only have been seconds, as I had forgotten how to breathe and surely would have fainted otherwise. A beat more, and then he turned his face away, looking off into the distance, his expression resolved.

“I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed.”

“I was worried,” I said, somewhat breathless, “that you would leave.”

He turned to look at me once more, startled. He stared at me for a time, his head cocked to the side. Finally, he said, “I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution, surely.”

“You came here to help, Solas,” I said, more fiercely than was probably necessary. “I won’t let them use that against you, _Hahren_.”

His expression was at once serious and dismissive. “How would you stop them, _Da’len_?”

“However I had to, _Lethallin_.” I straightened my posture, and did not let his eyes leave mine.

Solas inhaled sharply through his long nose, his square jaw tense with emotion I could not decipher. He inclined his head once and said, with quiet feeling, “Thank you.”

I shifted the weight on my feet. That felt…wrong. I should have said things differently. I had made him mad, or maybe even sad, and I wasn’t entirely certain how. His voice, melodic and soothing, broke through my thoughts.

“For now, let us hope either the mages or the templars have the power to seal the Breach.”

With that he turned, walked back towards his spot in the shade, beneath the overhang of the cabin. I watched him for several minutes, but he refused to return my gaze. I thought it spoke volumes that he had offered either the mages _or_ the templars as a choice. For all his passionate feelings towards the Dalish, this was a tolerant man. I swallowed and turned away, at long last. I walked somewhat heavily down the stairs, heading back to my quarters. There was much to plan for our journey to the Hinterlands. But first things first: I wanted a mirror.

I found one with relative ease, hidden in a drawer in my quarters. I stared at my reflection for at least an hour. It was…familiar; that much was certain. But why did it seem somewhat off? Like it belonged to a friend, not necessarily to me? I shook my head, staring at my eyes. The shape…the length of my nose, the bud of my lips…those all seemed fine. Nothing threw me the way my ears did—they were so…pointy. I ran my fingertips over them, shivering at the feel. They were so sensitive, even the smallest breath of sensation was intense. I wondered, for a moment, what it would feel like to have a certain _hahren_ run his tongue over the tip of one. I slammed the mirror down, feeling my cheeks heat. That was…too much. Much too much. I doubted he would want some _da’len_ daydreaming about him in such a wanton way.

Having wasted such time, I spent the rest of the evening packing—or well, trying to. I didn’t have many goods, and certainly had no clothing, until I realized the folded garments in the cabinets were meant for me. I felt a lump in my throat. Did I deserve such thoughtfulness? What had I done? Walked into a situation at the right (or wrong, still up for debate) time and interfered with fate? And then I remembered; everyone seemed to think I was some Herald of Andraste. Well, shit. That was why. Divine favor, and such. I groaned and fell backwards onto the bed. A cloud of dust rushed up into the air, making me cough. _Fenedhis_ , I couldn’t even be dramatic in peace!

A knock at the door made me squeak in surprise. Wincing and clearing my throat, I sat up quickly. “Come in—who is it?” Wrong order, S _eth’lin_. Good job.

The door swung open and Varric walked in. “Just your humble and dashingly handsome dwarf, come to check in on her Highness the Herald.” His smile made his words all the more playful, and I felt more at ease than I had since…well, since I could remember.

“I don’t know if I could take a title added to the title I’ve already been given.” I sighed and smiled, trying not to let everything get to me. If I started screaming, I would never stop. Varric laughed softly beneath his breath and leaned against the doorframe, his muscular arms folded across his broad (and hairy) chest. I wondered if his lovers ever got rug burn, or if that mass of chest hair was soft.

“Don’t worry about it, Sun-Blossom. It’s bound to blow over in time. Especially if you plug a world-ending hole that spouts demons and general death and save us all from doom. I don’t see it catching on.”

I groaned and picked up a pillow for the express purpose of shoving my face into it. I spoke around its fluffy softness, trying not to breathe in the dust. “Did you come here to torment me or was there an actual purpose to this little visit?”

The weight of the bed shifted as Varric sat beside me. He reached over and ruffled my hair, and I peeked around the pillow to scowl at him as I smoothed it down.

“Cassandra wanted to know if you would be ready to leave tomorrow morning for the Hinterlands. I told her I would check in on you to ask, and just to see how you’re holding up.”

Sighing, I pushed the pillow behind me. I shrugged after a minute. “I’m ready to leave tomorrow for the Hinterlands to get Mother Giselle, but as far as how I’m holding up is concerned…” I trailed off, really thinking. I couldn’t remember who I was, how I had gotten to Thedas, how much of that I could tell anyone, if I had any family—or if I would ever see them again if I did…but in all honesty, things could have been worse. I could have died at the Conclave; I could have been killed by the Chantry at Roderick’s insistence; I could have died fighting demons, or trying to close the Breach. I rubbed the back of my neck, and looked Varric in the eye.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know how I’m doing. I have no idea who I am. No one knows me. I have no family. No friends. It’s…odd to think that there is no one, not a single person, who might care about my wellbeing.” When he raised his eyebrows, I smiled a little. “I mean really, like it would devastate them. Someone who might love me, and I don’t mean as in a lover. It’s…sad. It makes me sad. But, on the other hand, I could be dead now. So there’s that.”

Varric smiled and gently patted me on the back. “That’s the way to look at it. And the thing about family, Sun-Blossom, is that they always find you. Even if you have to make a new family; they’ll find you. Or you’ll find them.”

I looked down at my hands, folded so neatly in my lap. He was right about that. Except he didn’t understand that I felt as if I already knew my new family—but they were still getting to know me. I loved them. But they were, at most, ambivalent towards me. I swallowed hard, but forced myself to smile at the kind dwarf.

“Thanks, Varric. I mean it. I’ll be okay. Promise.”

He searched my eyes for a moment, then nodded. He jumped off the edge of the bed, gave my shoulder one last squeeze and smiled. “I’ll go tell our Lady Seeker the good news about tomorrow. Maker knows that woman isn’t the patient type.” He walked back towards the door, then stopped. He half-turned, looking at me seriously. “You know, Sun-Blossom, you can talk to me. If you ever need to vent.”

I smiled again, and this time I meant it. “Thanks again. I will.”

He nodded and closed the door behind him. Varric…he was a good person. One of my favorites. Too bad he was so stuck on Bianca; she did not treat him the way he deserved. I froze, frowning. Bianca? The crossbow? No…a red head. I needed to stop being shocked at the random information that popped into my head, unbidden. I was not from Thedas. I was obviously from somewhere familiar with what was happening. But whom could I talk to about it? Who might understand? Who could help me make use of the information to save as many lives as possible?

Maybe…maybe I should ask Solas about it. Out of everyone here, I just knew (surprise, surprise) that he would have the most information. So, I finished packing (a few changes of undergarments mostly) and headed out of my chamber. Dusk was setting, turning the sky lavender and rose pink, chilling the already cold air. I dashed back inside, found a pair of mittens (miraculously exactly what I was looking for), on the desk and dashed right back outside. I jogged to where Solas had been last, doing my best to ignore the whispers from people around me. One especially bothered me. “Are we going to have new verses in the Chant of Light now for the Herald of Andraste, telling what she did?”

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t standing outside, contemplating the sky as he had been earlier. Bolstering my courage, I knocked on the door to the cabin he had been standing outside of—maybe it was his. I heard a rustle of movement, and then that familiar angelic voice call out, “Just a moment, please,” before the sound of footfalls. The door opened and there he was, standing tall and proud and _Creators_ was he handsome. I stared at him, unable to speak.

“May I help you, Herald?”

“Fen’Harel’enaste!” I shook my head. “Don’t…it’s one thing to joke about it, but please, do not call me that. Not you.”

He stared at me with those smoky blue eyes, and after a moment of observation, inclined his head. “I have no name to call you, _Lethallan_.”

“Fen,” I said quickly, my eyes wide and earnest. “Please,” I added.

My fellow apostate inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring for a moment, the only sign of his burst of emotion. Again, after a moment, he spoke. “You use that name often,” he said, his voice careful, “and I wonder why, when there is so much superstition surrounding that particular…being.”

I planted my feet a little more firmly on the ground, my brows drawn down, ready for a fight. “Listen, _mir_ ’ _falon_ , that’s all that is, as you say: superstition. The Dalish, for all their hard work to keep our culture—and yes, I do mean _our_ ; don’t give me that look—have not kept the integrity of every mythological figure. Fen’Harel is no _wicked_ trickster; he’s not someone we should guard _against_. He did his best. He did what he could to set the world aright. I won’t have anyone speak lowly of him.”

He wasn’t making eye contact now. He was staring down, his expression blank, passive, but when he finally raised his gaze, I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes. It took him a moment to find his voice, but when he did, he was completely composed. “While I had no intention of speaking ill of…well, you seem quite confident that you have the right understanding. May I inquire as to what fuels this passionate plea for Fen’Harel?”

Folding my arms across my chest, I met his gaze dead on. “That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. Or partly, anyway. And if you do not mind, I would prefer to speak in private.”

To my surprise, Solas did not hesitate a moment. He stepped aside, opening the door way. “ _Ara seranna’ma_ , _Lethallan_ ; it was rude of me to not invite you in immediately.”

Shaking my head, I entered his room. It was stocked similarly to mine, but with more vellum and parchment strewn over his work desk. A fire was going, giving warmth and cheer to what felt like a surprisingly empty space, considering the clutter. I walked to the fire, more for a place to stand and something to do, than desire for warmth. My nerves were fueling me with enough heat to be (un)comfortable. “I…” I began, then stopped, cleared my throat, unable to look at him for fear I would lose what little courage had propelled me here. “I don’t know whom else to turn to—I don’t know who will take me seriously. I thought, I _felt_ , out of everyone, it might be you.”

When I finally turned to look at him, to see his reaction, I could tell Solas was no more at ease with my presence than I his. He was reclining against the wall, right next to the door, not even a foot from where he had been before I entered. Perhaps he feared that if he sat down, it would invite me to do the same and extend my visit. Who could say?

“I appreciate your regard,” he said, though his tone was far from warm. It was…curious? But in a calm way—not the over-eagerness I could never contain.

“Ah, yes, well,” I said and shuffled, looking down. “Regard, yes…that’s all it is. I ah, hmm. How do I put it into words?” I know I’ve known you for less than a week, but I loved you the moment I saw you? No, _before_ I saw you? He already seemed hesitant around me; that would do well for our budding romance—well, _my_ budding romance. “I know things,” I said suddenly, and quickly continued when I saw him tense, when his eyebrows shot up. “As they happen. Sometimes before. Most of the things people say to me, I know exactly what they will be. I know things I _should not know_. I knew all of your names; I know a smattering of details about everyone’s lives. Leliana, for example. I know I have to talk to her, befriend her and ease the hurt in her heart so she doesn’t lose herself and become a monster. She was friends with the Hero of Ferelden. She thought the Maker sent her a vision to assist the Hero against the Blight.” I closed my eyes, breathing sharply. “I know the Elvish gods exist, but aren’t gods the way the Dalish think they are. More like supernatural beings. I know Fen’Harel locked them away, but with _good intentions._ I think. I know we need to leave Haven, for many will die if we do not. _Tarasyl’an Te’las_. Skyhold. I know we must go there, but I don’t know where or what it is. I know Fen’Harel is watching over Thedas even now, though not where or how though it’s _so close in my mind_.” I inhaled sharply, braced myself, and looked at him as I continued. He looked stricken, but I pushed on. “I know I am not from Thedas. I don’t know where. I know Mythal brought me here.”

There was more I could have said—that our party was not done growing; that the markings on my face belonged to a god, but also told the world I was a slave—or they used to. I worried my lower lip, watching Solas draw himself together and pull his expression closed. It broke my heart a little. I didn’t want him to close down. I wanted him to open up. To tell me what was going on. Maybe make passionate love to me on his bed. Okay, that may have been pushing it, but still. It was true. I wanted it.

“Mythal,” he said, slowly, tasting the word. “This is something you simply ‘know?’”

I shook my head. “No. She came to me in the Fade when I dreamed. She told me. She had said…she said I was supposed to retain my memories, but something went wrong.”

He nodded, pushing himself off of the wall to walk absently towards his desk, giving me his back. Such a handsome back it was—broad and sturdy. I wondered if it had many knots, tight and hard, needing to be worked out through tender palms and fingertips.

“Did Fen’Harel come to you in the Fade as well?” he asked the question carefully, lightly, mere curiosity driving it, no more. At least on the surface. I could tell my answer determined…something.

“No,” I said honestly. “He didn’t. Just Mythal. I don’t know where he is. Close, that’s it.”

He inclined his head but did not turn to face me. “You mentioned that you know things about each of us. What do you know of me? Perhaps that will help me understand if you…speak truly.”

“I do speak truly,” I said, trying not to be defensive.

“I see that you believe so, yes. But because we believe something does not necessarily render it fact. The Mark may have…overwhelmed your senses, perhaps.”

I grit my teeth. Fine. If he wanted to be that way. “I know you are more than an apostate. I know you are more than you say. Solas is not your name, but you chose it because you believe pride to be one of your defining characteristics. You stand tall. I know you blame yourself for something catastrophic. I know it wasn’t your fault. I know you’ve slept for so long—longer than you are admitting. You lost everything. Everyone. You…you wanted to make the world better, but somehow, whatever it is you did, it didn’t turn out the way you planned. You have a connection to the orb that goes beyond the fact that it is an Elven artifact.” I took a deep breath. Fuck it. I had gone this far already. “I know I loved you before I knew you. Or saw you. Because I knew you when I saw you for the first time at that tear in the veil. I knew the pain in your eyes, the curve of your smile and the timbre of your voice. I know—”

“That is enough, _ma serannas_ ,” he said, cutting me off, his tone polite but leaving no room for debate. His back was to me. He had strolled to the desk, was idly flipping through the papers. It wasn’t a focused task; he wasn’t looking for something. It was something to do so he didn’t have to look at me. I stared at his back, panic squeezing my chest tight. What had I said? Oh, Creators, I blacked out. I had blacked out. What had I said? I closed my eyes, trying to recall my voice. Had I…had I really admitted love to him? Oh, yes, yes I had. _Fenedhis lasa_.

“I…I didn’t mean…”

“We need to communicate the urgency of leaving Haven to the advisors. How much time would you say we have, until whatever catastrophe befalls us happens?”

I blinked, not expecting that. “Oh? Um, I…we’ll go to the Hinterlands and the Fallowmire first. It doesn’t happen until I…” I looked down at my hand, at the mark glowing green in my palm. “It doesn’t happen until I try to close the Breach again. And that night, he will come. An…army…I…” I closed my eyes, trying to see. After a moment, I cursed and folded my arms beneath my chest, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. “I can’t see it. That’s all I know. When. Not how, not why or who.”

Solas pinched the bridge of his nose, turning slightly, one hip resting against the desk. “I suggest we speak to Cullen about moving as many of the non-military out of Haven. Classify it as under construction for a monument for the Divine, perhaps. I don’t know how we’ll explain it. I do not think he would necessarily believe or appreciate what you have told to me.”

I nodded slowly, watching him. “Maybe…maybe I can tell him a spirit of wisdom told me. Maybe that she came to me in the Fade as I dreamed, and had overheard some of Corypheus’ plans—”

“Who?” Solas said, a mite sharply.

“Cory…Coryphe…” I blinked, shaking my head. “No, it’s gone. What did I say?”

Solas shook his head, looking tired and weary. “It doesn’t matter. The name means nothing. But yes, we can see if that works. Perhaps when we return from the Hinterlands, and have had some time to think and plan.”

I nodded, sensing that he wanted me to go. Before I turned to leave, I regarded him, worrying my lip. He must have felt me staring for he dropped his hand from his nose and looked at me with a serious expression.

“Yes…?” it seemed for a moment as if he was going to say my name, or maybe, _maybe_ _lethallan_ , but he didn’t. He let the word trail off, his eyes seeking my own, so full of sorrow. I threw all caution to the wind. Before I could stop myself, I rushed to him and threw my arms around him, pulling him close in a hug. He tensed against me, pulling himself up to his full height.

“Herald—”

“Don’t go,” I said softly, not bothering to ask him again not to call me that. “Please, _lethallin_. I’m not going to tell anyone anything, especially not about you.” I pressed my face against his chest, steadying myself. “I need you here, Solas. And I don’t…I don’t mean because of what I said earlier. I need your advice. I need you to guide me.” I pulled back, looking him in the eye, trying to keep the tears that were rimming from spilling down my cheeks. “You’re the only one I trust, _lethallin_.”

He relaxed slightly in my arms, the sorrow in his eyes becoming what I thought might have been compassion. He sighed, and then wrapped one arm around me to pat me hesitantly on the back. “I will not abandon you now.”

Slowly, I relaxed my hold on him, searching his eyes. “Promise? Promise me you won’t leave?”

“I promise,” he said, his voice grave as he let his hands fall to his sides.

I nodded, quickly wiping away an errant tear that had made its way down my cheek. I turned then, walking towards the door before I paused, one last time. “Goodnight, Solas.”

“Goodnight… _lethallan_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Aneth ara_ : literally, "my safe place." A common greeting among the elves  
>  _Andaran Atish'an_ : a formal greeting; "enter this place of peace."  
>  _Mir'falon_ : my friend  
>  _Ara seranna'ma_ : excuse me


	4. To Begin a Journey

It wasn’t even dawn when Cassandra came banging on my door. “Herald!” she bellowed, in her special, always-angry way. “Herald, are you awake and ready?”

I was out of bed and slamming the door open before I realized that I was only dressed in an oversized tunic. “No.”

She blinked at me, somewhat taken aback. “Herald, your leggings—”

“ _No_ ,” I repeated, my bleary eyes meeting hers dead on. “No Herald. Not that. Not Herald.”

“Ah, yes, _Fen_ , rather, you are still lacking trousers.”

I blinked at her, using the doorframe to support me. Really, I was unsure how I had gotten as far as the door without assistance. I wasn’t the most coordinated person upon waking, especially when pulled from the deep sleep of dream. Something about a six-eyed wolf. “Right. Yes. Pants. Got it.”

I closed the door on her, heard her barking orders at…well someone else, I assumed. I was just pulling a pair of hide trousers out from a pile of (mostly?) clean clothes when my door swung open and Varric trudged in.

“So, Herald, Cassandra tells me—whoa, put some pants on Sun-Blossom.”

I flapped said garment at him, stomping my bare foot onto the wood floor. “I am _trying_ , but you people _keep interrupting me now would you please GET OUT_.”

Varric waved his arms, laughing softly. “All right, all right, I’m going. Don’t worry, Sun-Blossom, you aren’t my type anyway.”

The book I threw made a decided _thump_ against the now-closed door.

I had one leg half-through, bottom high in the air, struggling not to fall, when Solas opened the door. But what was I expecting, honestly? I mean why not? My embarrassment clearly was not yet complete. Now I just needed Cullen or Leliana or Josie to barge in. It was going to be that kind of day.

“ _Lethallan_ , Cassandra has told me to summon—” was as far as he got before he turned and left the room abruptly. I sighed, too tired to be truly embarrassed, and finished struggling into my pants. I grabbed my pack, slid my belt on, tied the wraps around my feet and exited my room. No one was in sight, so I made my way towards the gated entrance to Haven where, sure enough, all three of my companions were waiting for me. No one looked me in the eye; Cassandra was blushing; Solas was pointedly examining a map; Varric was laughing too hard.

“Open the gates,” Cassandra commanded.

The guards, still bleary from the early hour, complied. The doors swung open and we began what was to be an arduous journey, to say the least. It would take three days just to reach the Hinterlands, then another three to get from one end to another. The journey would do a number on my feet, but I was certain I would build up callouses—…but Cassandra was stopping by the stables, and I heard nickering. That was…unexpected. I had thought they would be empty. Why had I thought that?

“They are not the best steads, nor the fastest, but they will see us safely to the Hinterlands.” Cassandra led a black gelding to me. He was on the older side, but he looked stable and sure of foot. Nevertheless, I eyed him with apprehension.

“Horses. We’re riding horses.”

“Of course we are,” Cassandra said, giving me a look as if I had said something beyond sensibility. “The walk would take a week otherwise. Especially with the dwarf.”

Varric’s eyebrows rose as he mounted a smaller horse that was just barely larger than a pony. “I can’t help it if I don’t have long legs, Seeker. I’m a dwarf. That’s not part of the territory.”

“You do make up for it in abundant chest hair,” I said, trying to calm my nerves with humor. Solas watched me, holding the reins to a dappled gelding loosely.

“Do you need assistance mounting, _lethallan_?”

I turned bright red as Varric snorted with laughter. “I, uh,” I muttered, clearing my throat, “It’s just that I’ve never ridden.”

“That’s news,” the rogue said with a grin.

“ _A horse_ ,” I clarified. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. Not that I…know of. And this does not feel familiar.”

And then Cassandra was behind me, lifting me by the waist and hoisting me over the side. I shrieked in surprise, used Fade Step without thinking, and seconds later I was on my back, legs over my head, buried in a snowbank. Solas was the one to help me up, pulling me to my feet and out of my entrapment.

“Did—I—hurt—the—horse?” I asked, wheezing as I tried to regain my breath. He shook his head, turning and giving me his startling profile.

“Your mount is fine, if only a little spooked. Come. Let us try this again.”

He led me to the dappled gelding, allowing Cassandra to soothe the black one I had probably frightened half to death. He let me approach it cautiously; then, once I had had a moment to get a feel for the beast’s energy, he asked, “Are you ready?”

At my timid nod, he placed his hands on my waist. My heart rate spiked and everything stood still as I felt his palms spanning my waist. Creators, his hands were large and so warm. I swallowed, trying to focus as he gingerly but firmly lifted me. With as much grace as I could muster (none), I swung my leg over the horse’s side and grabbed the horn, then slid back against the cantle. Solas slid my foot into the stirrup for me, and then walked around to the other side of the horse and did the same, his long fingers brushing against my inner ankle. I stared at him, my eyes wide and my mouth somewhat open. He caught my eye as he released my heel, and for a moment, I thought I detected the smallest trace of a smile curving his mouth.

“If you’re ready, Fen?” Cassandra was, of course, already mounted. She had probably done it easily; maybe she had back-flipped onto the gelding she currently straddled, with the grace of an acrobat.

“I am. Now,” I paused, trying to find my seating on this creature, “how do I make it go?”

An hour later, it was decided best if one of my party members led the horse for me. So Varric was given the job of holding my reins as I sat, gripping the horn for dear life, and praying that my equilibrium did not let me down. It seemed to be seeing me through so far, but I wasn’t going to push my luck. Every so often I would mutter a quick, “Fen’Harel keep me,” under my breath. The day was uneventful, but long and tiring. It was surprisingly exhausting, riding a horse, and by the end of it, I was rather sure my skin had been rubbed clean off of my inner thighs. When we stopped to make camp, Cassandra noticed my hesitance in dismounting.

“Do you need assistance, Herald?”

“ _Fen_ ,” I corrected, more acerbically than I had anticipated—but I was in a good deal of physical pain, and had my heart set on downing a potion as soon as my feet touched the ground. To prove to myself and everyone that I could get off myself, I managed to unhook one of my feet from the stirrup (oddly difficult considering how many times it had slipped out of its own volition during our trot), and slide my leg over the opposite side. Successfully, my foot touched earth. But now my other foot was still stuck in its stirrup, and my leg was at such an awkward angle that it took a moment or two of hopping and yanking, and distressing of my poor gelding, before I was free. And then my legs nearly gave out on me. I gripped the saddle, urging the horse over to where Varric and Solas had tethered theirs, leaning on the poor thing heavily. It was probably sick of my weight.

As Varric so kindly tied my horse, I threw back a potion, sighing at the near-instant relief. There was going to be blood in my pants later, I just knew it.

“So, we’re sleeping where? Are others coming to join us, or is it just we four for the time being?” I looked about at the clearing. It was small, big enough for a few tents, true, but not so large as to be overly conspicuous.

“We shall set up temporary camp here for the night,” Cassandra said, removing a large roll from her horse. “And we will establish a more permanent camp once we reach the Hinterlands.”

“Ah. Well then.” I cleared my throat. “Who brought the tents then? And how may I assist setting them up?”

“We are not using tents, _lethallan_ ,” Solas said gently, removing a roll from his horse. “It would take too much time, and there is very little to lose.”

“Especially with that hour we lost this morning,” Varric chimed, helpful as always. “I really have never seen someone get a horse to go backwards _every single time_. That’ll make for a great story, but no one is going to believe it who didn’t see it.”

I covered my face with my hands. “Oh, no. Not a story. Please. I am going to make a big enough idiot out of myself as it is; I don’t need everyone knowing that I cannot ride a horse alone.”

Varric let out a low whistle. “Well, I won’t necessarily have to retell it. Half the guard saw, Sun-Blossom.”

“Varric,” Solas chided, “was that entirely necessary?”

I groaned and felt my legs give out beneath me. Apparently it was sitting-down- _and_ -being-mortified time. “Oh, _Creators_. Fen’Harel take me in a cave on all fours,” I whispered.

Solas looked at me, his eyebrows up in surprise. “What a…colorful idea. I am unfamiliar with that particular expression. Though, as far as they concern Fen’Harel, it is not the worst I have heard.”

Before I could respond, Cassandra was inspecting my horse.

“Herald—”

“Fen.”

“Where is your sleeping roll?”

I let my hands drop away from my face. I stared at her, uncomprehendingly. “My what?”

“Your sleeping roll. The roll upon which you will sleep.”

Of course. Of course things had to get worse. Rather than lament it, I embraced the fact that I was genuinely the world’s largest fuck up. “Well color me surprised, I’ve forgotten it. I didn’t realize I had one, to be honest.”

“I left it outside your door when I saw you were…trouser-less.” Cassandra shook her head. “This is my fault. Here, you may use mine. I am accustomed to sleeping on the ground.”

I shook my head. “No, it will be fine. Thanks. It cannot be worse than the cell,” I said absently, not thinking my words through. It got oddly quiet. I looked up, but no one would meet my eye.

“Yes,” Cassandra said, after too long a silence. “I would like to apologize about that. I did not know you were innocent, and I would do it the same again, but...I could have been kinder. My grief fueled my anger, but that is not an excuse.”

I blinked at her. Was this really an apology? From…Cass? I swallowed, unsure how to react. “Ah, no, that’s um…that’s okay. I mean, I totally understand why you did what you did. I would have suspected me too, Cass.”

“Cass,” she said, a little taken aback.

I winced. Great. Now I had offended her. “Do you mind if I…?”

She snorted, shaking her head once. “No, I do not. My name is understandably long. You may call me ‘Cass.’”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding, afraid that it would have perhaps reminded her of her dead brother. Maybe he had called her that before? I hoped not.

“It matters not. Here, our supper, such as it is.” Cassandra opened one of the side bags from the horses and tossed a small bundle to each of us. Inside was a small package of dried meat and a crust of bread. I tried not to look at the jerky as I pulled out my piece of bread, folding the cloth back over the remainder. Varric must have caught my expression because he quickly asked,

“Something wrong, Sun-Blossom?”

“No, nothing,” I said, forcing a smile to show I meant it. “I just…is anyone else a little more hungry? I don’t eat meat is all.”

“Here,” Solas said, taking the parcel from my lap and handing me his bread. “A fair trade.”

I smiled at him, grateful and ravenous after such a long day.

“You don’t eat meat?” Varric demanded, astounded. He raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “Well, why not?”

I shrugged, picking my bread into small pieces so I wouldn’t have to tear it apart with my teeth. “If I don’t have to kill something to live, why should I?”

“I…guess?” Varric said, eyeing me as he sat down. “Are you going to be, I don’t know, weird about everyone else eating it, Sun-Blossom?”

Snorting back a laugh, I shook my head, and then popped a piece of bread into my mouth. “No. You eat it all you want. It’s not _your_ head that’s filled with the crazy, after all. Just mine.”

“Say that again, Sun-Blossom.”

I smiled, unable not to. Even though I had to sleep on the ground (having to _insist_ multiple times that _each_ of my party members use their own damn bedroll), it turned out to be a nice night. Oh, sure, Varric snored, and Cassandra talked in her sleep (mostly about someone named Hawke…? That name was so familiar), but it was nice to feel them around me. As close to family as I had. When I had trouble falling asleep, Solas whispered to me about the constellations visible above, telling me the story of each.

It was a very good night, and I remember dreaming about stars when I finally fell asleep.

 

~

 

I woke just after dawn to the sounds of Cassandra packing the horses. My body was sore in ways to which I was not entirely accustomed, and so standing up took…time. And effort. I settled with sitting first, trying not to groan. How old was I? Too old for this shit, I tell you what. A water skein landed in my lap, making me squeak/croak at the unexpected weight launching into my stomach. I blinked blearily at Varric.

“—awake there, Sun-Blossom?”

Apparently he had been talking at me while I stared at my ankles sleepily. In response to his question, I shook my head and, ever so dexterously, removed the ties from the mouth of the water sac. I drank thirstily, and then tried to clumsily tie it. Long, elegant fingers stilled my own.

“Allow me,” Solas said gently, taking the skein away. He drank a mouthful and within seconds had the cursèd thing tied. He tossed it back to Varric, then reached down and offered to help me to my feet. I clasped his hand and, with surprising strength, he pulled me lightly to mine. I wasn’t expecting the effort he put into the pull, and didn’t compensate once I was up. I tipped forward, but he caught my shoulder and steadied me.

“Perhaps we should allow for extra time to awaken in the mornings,” Solas said, looking at Cassandra.

I waved my hands in protest, stomping my feet to get my blood flowing. “I don’t need special treatment. I’ll adapt.”

That being said, I still needed help getting up onto my mount. Or that was what I said when I asked Solas to help me. It had nothing to do with his hands on my waist, the feel of his arms around me as he lifted me up. Really, I promise.

I would have fallen back asleep on my horse, but the ride was so uncomfortable that I was fully awake within the hour. Varric regaled us with tales about Hawke (whom Cassandra had been mumbling about in her sleep) when he found out that I didn’t know much. The more he told me, the more familiar the story became. I knew the faces of these characters as Varric told me of their sweeping heroics. His smile was large and genuine; he cared for them, each and every one.

“You would have liked Daisy especially, I think,” he said fondly. It was perhaps noon; the sun was high overhead but the trees were so thick it was difficult to see its precise location. “And Aveline. It was hard not to like Aveline, even if she was Captain of the Guard.”

I smiled back at him, having now been given tentative reign over my own mount, and adjusted the reins in my hands. “Merrill seems wonderful—so kind, and dedicated to finding out the truth to our past.”

“If you do not mind blood magic,” Cassandra said, somewhat icily, though she had been enjoying the stories as much as I had—or had looked like she was, anyway. My smile slipped a little.

“I don’t. I’m not superstitious. Blood magic is a tool like any other kind.”

“It leaves one susceptible to becoming an abomination. How can you not see the danger in that?” Cassandra was looking at me as if I was slow of wit.

I braced myself and straightened my spine, ready for a confrontation. “Cassandra, all magic carries risks. If we can learn to control it, there is no more harm than from any other kind. Merrill never actually fell prey to an abomination. Her friends helped give her strength when she might have fallen. I’m not saying all mages should use blood magic—I don’t, nor do I intend to start—but one who is strong enough to have mastery over her magic, not to be mastered by it, shouldn’t be shamed or persecuted for doing so. Look at Anders,” I said, feeling my heart wrench. “He didn’t use blood magic, right Varric? He became what the Chantry would consider an Abomination. He didn’t even use his magic, yet he still caused so much chaos and damage.” I shook my head. “Blood magic isn’t the problem. Violence is the problem. And as we saw with the destruction of the circles—violence begets more violence. If the templars had behaved humanely, the mages would not have rebelled; if the mages had not rebelled, the templars would not be slaughtering them now; if the templars were not slaughtering them, the mages would not need to take arms and defend themselves. It goes on. It goes on and it goes on until it stops. And it doesn’t stop because of violence. It stops because of peace.”

Everyone was staring at me and it made me highly uncomfortable. I cleared my throat and adjusted my hips. “I ah…didn’t mean to lecture. I just try not to judge others too harshly. Especially if they have done nothing to harm anyone.”

Solas’ voice broke through my nerves. “I very much am in agreement, _lethallan_.”

The way he was looking at me made my chest grow tight and my eyes water. It was a mixture of pride and perhaps maybe…just _maybe_ , some hope too. I did my best to smile at him, though I knew it was watery.

“ _Ma serannas_ , _vhenan_.” When his eyes grew wide, I knew I had made a mistake. I re-traced the words in my mind and winced. “Oh, _din_ , I meant, I didn’t mean to say—I meant _lethallin_ , _hahren_.”

He said nothing, simply inclined his head, his jaw tense, and we continued our ride in silence. I could tell that Varric wanted to ask what had happened, as did Cassandra if I were being honest, but both had the sense to not do so. Any further conversation was short and somewhat strained. When we made camp, while the others were setting up their sleeping rolls, I excused myself. There was a stream nearby and I wanted to refresh myself.

“Be careful, Herald.”

“ _Fen_ ,” I said, correcting Cassandra yet again.

“Fen. But do; this area has been scouted, but things may have changed. Are you certain you will brook no company?”

“I’ll scream, like I always do, and Fade Step back here. Don’t worry.” I gave her a small smile and backtracked slightly, towards the small stream we had passed earlier. I snorted to myself as I stepped over the tangle of roots on the forest floor. Who used brook as a verb? How archaic.

At least it wasn’t snowy here in the Hinterlands. It was cold, and snow would come soon, to be sure, but not yet. I found the stream and squatted beside it, not kneeling in case the banks were damp. I didn’t want freezing knees as I walked back to camp. I splashed my face a few times, shivering at the cold water hitting my skin and dripping down my chin and neck. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, just slightly shocking—which is exactly what I wanted. I felt too anxious after accidentally calling Solas ‘heart,’ and wanted something to distract me from my (countless) errors. Someone was coming trudging up behind me, and by the noise he made, I knew who it was.

“Cass, I’m not in the mood to talk about it, okay? That’s the second time I’ve made an ass out of myself in front of that man, and I intend for it to be the last.”

“Well, that is good to know, I suppose,” came the smooth reply. Not. From. Cassandra.

I groaned and dropped my forehead into my hands. “Dread Wolf, take me now. In a cave. On all fours. Bound and gagged.”

“You should be careful,” Solas said as he moved to squat beside me. “That expression keeps getting more and more colorful. He might take you up on that.”

The image of a tall man, much like Solas, but with long ropes of hair cascading down his back and across his chest, came to mind, unbidden. I could feel his long fingers run over the skin of my back, exposed and tender. I swallowed, finding my throat suddenly dry. _If only_.

“What?” he said, the sound amused and bemused, all at once.

“Oh, for the love of—did I say that out _loud_?”

Solas regarded me with those crystalline blue eyes that turned down at the corners, never quite open fully. Always half-lidded, always careful to never reveal too much. “You did. Have you not heard that Fen’Harel is a six-eyed wolf?”

I shrugged, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. I was still too embarrassed. “So what? Besides, he doesn’t look like that all the time.”

“Just another one of those tantalizing bits of knowledge you mysteriously possess?”

I nodded mutely, having to stop myself from asking him to say the word ‘tantalizing’ again because of what it did to me. I needed to make the situation _less_ awkward, not treble the amount of “Oh, Creators, why” floating around between us.

“I understand,” he said, after a moment of silence, “that this is a difficult situation for you to be in. I wanted you to know that I will do all in my power to make certain that I do not add to that difficulty—in any way.” I raised my head and looked him in the eye, water still dripping slowly off of my chin. “I am afraid, _lethallan_ , that that includes romance. It would be better not to begin anything I could not…”

He trailed off, turning his gaze from mine to the water slowly burbling past us. I laughed quietly, the sound sad even to my own ears, and stood. My legs were starting to cramp anyway.

“Well,” I said to myself, “’tis better to have loved and lost / than never to have loved at all.”

I saw Solas start from the corner of my eye.

“What did you say?” he asked, almost hesitantly as he stood, his gaze once more searching my own.

“It’s just an expression,” I said with a shrug, trying to make as light of the situation as I could. “It…it means it’s better to be hurt than to have never felt…” I trailed off, unable to continue, unable to say the word love to him. Not again. I couldn’t take another rejection. Not just now. Maybe tomorrow. I twisted my hands, then with a sudden burst of courage, reached out and took his own, holding them firmly. “Solas, I don’t want this to get between us. I don’t want it to stop our friendship, and I do hope you count me among your friends. You are most certainly one of mine, and I have so few. I do not mean to drive you away.”

He stared at me, his eyebrows up, his eyes perhaps a shade wider than normal. He nodded once, and then gave my hands a gentle squeeze in return before pulling free of me. “Of course not, _lethallan_. But I suggest we return to the others before our Seeker decides to send a search party.”

“You go ahead of me,” I said, unable to meet his gaze. I turned, looking at the water as it burbled softly by, gently running over the rocks smoothed by years of that current rushing all around them. There was a simile in there somewhere; I just couldn’t find it. “I would still like a…moment. Please.”

“As you wish.” His voice was silken, mysterious. Everything about him was perfect. Silence fell, and I glanced behind me to see if he had gone or was standing there still. He had left, which meant his loud tread earlier was for my benefit—so he would not have snuck up on me. Well, that didn’t make me feel like an idiot at all. I sighed and squatted by the water again, splashing my face more. I partially disrobed so I could drizzle the cold water over my arms and neck without getting my clothes soaking wet, enjoyed the prick of my skin as the water dried, then dressed and headed back to our makeshift camp.

As we ate dinner that night, I asked Solas if he would tell us about the battle of Ostagar and the Hero of Ferelden. Where Varric was a storyteller, Solas was a poet. His words wove a tale of sorrow and beauty, flowing with such a familiar rhythm and meter. Like a song…a song I knew that I knew. I hummed a tune to myself as we readied our beds—well, while they readied their beds, and I made myself as comfortable as possible. There was plenty of grass, so it wasn’t too hard to lie on the ground. Besides, there were extra blankets, so at least I was warm. We couldn’t see the stars, so there was nothing but darkness above—the dull outline of branches mingling with branches.

“Herald—” Cassandra’s voice came from a few feet away from me.

“Fen,” I corrected absently, a little drowsy, but not tired enough to sleep, not yet.

“ _Fen_ ,” she amended, somewhat abashed, “that song you are humming…”

“Oh!” I jolted, my eyes wide. “I hadn’t realized I was humming that. I’m sorry; I’ll shut up.”

“No, that is not what I meant. I was going to ask if you would mind singing it. It has…a soothing melody.”

 _Fenedhis lasa_. It wasn’t really a question, not with Cassandra. But I was so uncomfortable singing in front of…well, anyone, but especially Solas.

“Uh…no one wants to hear me sing, Cass,” I said, glad of the dark to hide my blush. Who did she think I was? Leliana?

“I would be very interested in hearing this song,” Solas said softly from my other side, just past Varric. “Its tune is...familiar.”

“Sun-Blossom, there’s no need to be shy. If you like, I could sing something so you know how low the bar is really set.”

_Fen. Ed. His. Lasa._

“I can only remember one verse of it,” I muttered softly, more to myself than to the others. I cleared my throat, closed my eyes, and pretended I was alone in my shower. I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and went for it. “Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof / You saw her bathing on the roof / Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you / She tied you to her kitchen chair / And she broke your throne and she cut your hair / And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelujah.”

The last note drew out long, trailed off into the blackness of the night all around us. The images the song brought to mind were…strange. I saw a girl, similar to myself, but different, human, sitting on a bed that was so familiar I could feel where the spring mattress was out of shape. She had something in her ears…buds? She was painting her toes on her comforter, but she knew she had to be careful or her mother would yell at her for spilling. Her mother…my mother. A flash of a face, eyes crinkling at the corners in a smile; warm laughter spilling into sunlight and dancing around me like motes of dust.

And suddenly I was crying. I could hear her voice as she called out that she loved me as she rushed out the door for work. She loved me. Someone loved me. And I might never see her again. I tried to keep my tears quiet, but one can only sniff so often before others get suspicious.

“-Blossom? You okay? Hey.” A hand, large and hard and warm, gripped my shoulder and gently gave me a squeeze. Apparently they had been talking to me, but I had been lost too deep in my memories to notice.

“ _Mamae_ ,” I said, somewhat brokenly. I cleared my throat and tried again. “ _Ir abelas_ ,” I began, then stopped myself when I realized only Solas would understand. “I’m sorry, I just...I remembered my mother. Just her face, the sound of her laugh—her voice telling me she loves me. Creators, I can’t even remember her name.”

Everyone was uncomfortably quiet, which, like an idiot, made me cry harder. This was the worst possible time for the shock to begin wearing off and the reality of the situation to set in. I hadn’t been sleeping well; I hadn’t allowed myself to think about my situation, but now, having her face and a flash of her voice…it was too much. I couldn’t stop the emotions from drowning me. At least I was quiet about it.

“Aw, Sun-Blossom,” Varric said, his voice soft. He sat up, scooted closer and squeezed my shoulder. “We talked about this. You’ll find your family. You’ll make new family. You’ve already started. We’re in this together, Blossom.”

“Yes,” Cassandra put in, somewhat stiffly. “You are not alone. We are all with you.”

Another hand on my shoulder, more slender than Varric’s, but just as hard and strong. Cassandra gave me an awkward, but reassuring, pat.

“Lady Seeker,” Solas’ voice broke the silence that was punctuated by my regular sniffs, “Varric, might I have a word with Fen alone?” A rustle in the dark, and I could tell he had stood. “ _Lethallan_ , will you walk with me?”

“ _Felandaris_ ,” I muttered to myself, mortified and inconsolable in equal measure. After hiding behind my hands for a moment more, I somehow managed to get to my feet. I stepped gently around Varric and Cass, unable to look at them for fear of the pity or discomfort on their faces. I sensed where Solas was, a few feet away, and followed him. The tears were already slowing, stymied by my intense feelings of: “Oh, Creators, _why_?” mixed with, “No, no, no, no.”

We walked in silence for several minutes. I had a feeling where we were going, and the sound of the stream growing louder only confirmed my suspicions. When we reached it, he finally turned to face me. I couldn’t look at him. The horrible awkwardness of the situation was making me tear up again, and I was sniffing yet _again_ , and—

His arms wrapped around me and pulled me against his chest. Stunned, I stood there stock still, unable to do much but blink.

“ _Atisha, lethallan_ ,” he whispered softly against my ear. “ _Ane’eth_ ,” he said, just as gently. “ _Tel’ane u_.” He took a deep breath, and it tickled the small hairs on the back of my neck. “ _Ane ma’las. Mir’las. El’las._ ” When my breath caught in my throat, he continued quickly. “You must be strong, Fen. This situation is not fair.” He turned his face, and I could feel his breath on my skin, which prickled in response. “ _Sahlin_ _re’seth_.” He gave me one last tight squeeze, then let his arms loosen around me. “It will pass.”

I laughed softly, rubbing at my eyes now that I had some arm space between us. “ _Halam’shivanas_? The sweet sacrifice of duty?” I was proud of myself. My voice didn’t even break.

“ _Din_ ,” he said, and I could hear the small smile in his voice. “I mean I too know what it is to wake in a world that is strange and lonely. But it will get better.”

Fingers, firm and long, gripped my chin, raised my face. He wanted me to look at him. It was…difficult, not only because he had just seen me crying like a child, but also because of how he…made me feel. Having him whisper into my ear did not detract from my desire. I wanted him and I was afraid he would see.

“Look at me, _lethallan_ ,” he said, gently.

I swallowed, glanced quickly upwards, and then let my gaze fall once again when I saw the intensity in his eyes.

“ _Lethallan_ ,” he said, somewhat exasperated now. He sighed, then he gently ran his fingers through my hair. I swallowed again. Hard. Did he have any idea at _all_ as to what he was doing to me?

“I want to promise you something,” he said after a time, when I still wouldn’t look at him. I glanced up, my eyes meeting his finally. There was compassion there, and that ever-present sorrow that ate at my heart. “If I can find a way to get you home, I shall. Perhaps the orb—”

“An _eluvian_ ,” I said suddenly, eyes growing wide. “An _eluvian_! That’s how she brought me here! Mythal! I just have to find a working _eluvian_ , and then maybe I can find the doorway home!”

“That…may be more difficult than it seems, _lethallan_.”

“No, I…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “I know. I just have this feeling we’ll find one.” I took his hands, giving them a squeeze when all I wanted was to kiss him. “I know we will.”

“Even so,” he said, his fingers curling around mine, “finding the correct pathway back to your world may prove…difficult.”

“Mythal will help me,” I said firmly, sure of it. “I know she will. She brought me here, she can send me back.”

Solas let go of my hands, and once again his fingers moved through my hair, then gently gripped the back of my head. He touched his forehead to my own, and let out a sigh. He was so close…

“It will be easier,” he said, after a moment. “For you, I mean. To not be here, but home. It will…” he broke off, and suddenly he was gone from me, pacing away, his back to me. “Do you feel better, _lethallan_?”

“ _Ar_ …” I nodded, realized he couldn’t see, and cleared my throat. “Ah, yes. I do. Thank you. I just…”

He half-turned, gazing at me from the corner of his eye.

“I wish you didn’t know,” I said, softly, looking at the ground now. “What it feels like. You said earlier you know what it is to wake up in a world that is strange and to be alone. I wish…I wish you didn’t.”

“I did not mean to add to your troubles. _Ir abelas,_ Fen.”

“ _Fenedhis_!” I cursed to myself, shaking my head. I walked to him and took his hand earnestly. “You didn’t! I just…I just want you to be happy,” I finished, lamely. “That’s all.”

He smiled at me somewhat, then took his hand away in favor of rustling my hair. “Come. The others will be wondering what has become of us, and undoubtedly worry.”

The remainder of the night passed in silence. Varric asked me softly if I was okay when I lay back down, his voice heavy with sleep, but that was all. They woke me later the next morning, giving me more time to sleep and recover after my emotional outburst. It was compassionate, but it set us back at least an hour. I did, however, manage to climb onto my mount all on my own. It took much wiggling, scooting and sliding (on my stomach, no less), but I managed.

“If you need assistance, Fen, either Solas or I would be willing to provide it,” Cassandra said, eyeing my third slip. “We have many paths to tread, and it is best if we do so quickly.”

“Through shadow / To the edge of night?” I muttered, to myself really, as I finally managed to swing my leg over. “Ha!” I exclaimed in triumph, righting myself in the saddle.

“What was that, Sun-Blossom?”

“Hmm?” I asked, still distracted by my success. I wiggled my feet into the stirrups, proud of myself—until I realized there were children who could do what I had done on the first try. But they usually had stools, right? Ha, still one up!

“You said something about night.”

I winced. Why did I insist on saying my thoughts out loud, instead of keeping them quiet in my head where they belonged? “It’s just something Cassandra said reminded me of this song. It’s sort of epic and a little sad, but kind of appropriate for what we are doing.”

“I didn’t realize you were so musical,” Varric said with a smile. “Though, after hearing you sing last night, I should have guessed. You can carry a tune. Are you sure you’re a mage? Maybe you’re a bard.”

I grinned at him as I gently urged my gelding forward, falling in line behind Cassandra, our fearless leader. “I am too clumsy to be a bard. And you know, the magic is a slight indication that I’m a mage.”

“Clumsy!” Varric laughed, shaking his head. “Aside from mounting or dismounting horses, I have never seen you clumsy.”

“Need I remind you of how I fade stepped into a snow bank not three days ago?”

“Yes, and you did it with grace. I have never seen someone fall so elegantly.”

I laughed, and it felt good. Crying and talking about my emotions—who knew it could really make such a difference? Not I.

“Still—I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a mage-bard. It would take so much time to master both.”

“It is not unheard of,” Solas said, from behind Varric and myself. I half-turned in my saddle, raising my eyebrows in curiosity.

“Oh?” I frowned in thought, then blinked rapidly. “Oh! Do you mean Ancient Elves? I know they used to be immortal—they may have had more time to master different areas of focus!”

His smile was warm and immediate. He inclined his head. “Just so. Music and magic have a long history of entanglement. They are very much similar in their properties. As sound resonates, so does magic. Some spells took years to cast. Echoes would linger for centuries, harmonizing with new magic in an unending symphony.” He paused, and his smile turned inward and sad. “It must have been beautiful.”

I felt my chest grow tight at his expression. I tried to smile. “I’ve always thought there was a little magic in music. The way it can transport you to another time, another place or emotion—there is nothing else like it. There is power in it.”

He smiled at me and I was certain I was going to fall off my horse. I smiled back, tentatively and turned around again, unable to look at him. Why was feeling things so…awkward? Unrequited love was the positive _worst_. All the butterflies and blushes with none of the hand holding, none of the certainty that it was _okay_ to feel this way.

“You should sing that song, Sun-Blossom.”

I looked at Varric and he was smiling at me. It was a gentle kind of smile. I wondered how much he knew when he looked at me, how much he saw. Was it so obvious? Was I so obvious? Probably—I had never been adept at lying.

“Yes,” Cassandra put in, half-glancing behind her. “If it is an epic, I should very much like to hear it. It will pass the time and keep the dwarf from talking.”

“It’s not an epic ballad,” I quickly said, amending my previous statement. “It’s just a song about a journey that is difficult but necessary. I think.” I wrinkled my nose. “I wonder why songs are easier for me to remember than anything else? Maybe because lyrics usually rhyme?”

“How often do you think you sang?” Varric asked, pointedly ignoring Cassandra’s comments about him speaking.

“Often. I think. Just a feeling. I love music,” I said with a small sigh.

“If it is about a journey, it seems appropriate. Please, if you are willing, I would enjoy hearing it.”

Cassandra didn’t turn around when she spoke, her spine stiff and upright in her saddle. They were all being so very nice to me. Well, here went nothing.

“Okay, but don’t judge me too harshly. I’m still waking up.” I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and began. “Home is behind / The world ahead / And there are many paths to tread / Through shadow / To the edge of night / Until the stars are all alight / Mist and shadow / Cloud and shade / All shall fade / All shall…fade.”

“Do you remember the story behind it?” Varric asked, his head tilted to the side.

“Um…hm.” I closed my eyes, trying to think. “There was a very small person who was in the company of an elf, a dwarf, two humans and three of his family. He had to do…something, something very difficult against a very powerful evil, that only he could do. I don’t remember what. The company he took was there to support him, to help him, but he alone could accomplish the task.” I swallowed, feeling my heart skip a beat. “In the end, the company parted ways. He knew he had to do it alone. Only his closest friend saw him to the end—helped him when he would have fallen and given in to temptation.”

Varric rubbed his chin. “That has the makings of a good tale. That ending though…” he shook his head. “It isn’t right to leave a friend to suffer alone. You gotta stick it through ‘til the end.” He cocked his head and grinned at me. “Know what I mean, Blossom?”

I swallowed hard, fought back the tears pricking my eyes. “I do.” I paused, then added softly, “Thank you, Varric.”

“Don’t get all soft on me now. Did I ever tell you the time Hawke ripped both arms off of an ogre? Blind-folded on a dare?”

Laughing felt so good. I only laughed harder when Cassandra made a noise that could only be described as “disgusted.” After three more stories about Hawke, each more exaggerated than its predecessor, Cassandra asked me to sing another song. Rather than another slow, weighty dirge, I opted for something up-tempo and, well, energizing. With Varric’s help keeping beat with a rhythmic clap-clap slap, I sang them “We Will Rock You.”

“Is that used before a battle?” Cass asked, and I could hear the confusion in her voice, as if she didn’t quite know what to make of it, let alone if she liked it or not. I laughed again and shrugged.

“To be honest, I don’t know. It’s just catchy and I enjoy it.”

“It reminds me of this time when Hawke and Fenris and I were at Sundermount,” Varric said, launching into another story, I think really just to annoy Cassandra. The day passed pleasantly enough, that is, until we got nearer to Redcliffe. Sometime in the late afternoon we came across the lifeless bodies of three mages and one templar. No one felt like singing or telling stories after that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _vhenan_ : heart  
>  _atisha_ : peace  
>  _ane'eth_ : you are safe  
>  _tel'ane u_ : you are not alone  
>  _Ane ma’las. Mir’las. El’las_ : You are my hope. My hope. Our hope.  
>  _Sahlin re’seth_ : this moment is tenuous


	5. The Hinterlands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains explicit content, and those here out may as well. Also, I changed the title name from "Redcliffe" because I was silly and forgot they never actually GOT there...whoops!

It was late afternoon when we reached the camp grounds where the Inquisition had set up. The forest here was beautiful—full of lush and soft grass, trees that swayed gently overhead, and bright orange poppies, peppered with embrium, elfroot and yellow daisies. It was beautiful—different from Haven’s cold beauty—full of life and sound and the smell of soil, not just pine. We tied the horses, allowing them much needed rest. They were old, and if we were going to ride them back, they would need to rest while we explored the Hinterlands. Cassandra had mentioned that we would need to find Master Dennet, a renowned horsemaster, before leaving to see if we could recruit him and his mounts—apparently, his beasts would carry us with twice the speed as the weary and aged geldings the Inquisition currently had. I was just dusting off my trousers when a young dwarven woman approached. She had bronze hair with copper highlights, steady green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her face.

“The Herald of Andraste!” She must have seen my wince at that because she quickly continued. “I’ve heard the stories. Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach. It’s odd for a Dalish elf to care what happens to anyone else,” she said. At my visible…distress, she added, “but you’ll get no back talk here. That’s a promise.”

I took a deep breath. Now was not the time to lecture on the wrongs done to my people—that we had to separate ourselves from human society because any time we lingered anywhere too long, we had the nasty tendency of being murdered. As if we hadn’t helped the Hero of Ferelden the same as every other race during the Blight. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache begin.

“Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I—all of us here—we’ll do whatever we can to help.”

Before I could thank her, or say anything, Varric jumped in with: “Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?”

She stared at him a moment, nonplussed. One of her eyebrows rose. “I can’t say I have. Why?”

Varric could not suppress his grin. “You’d be Harding in…Oh, never mind.”

Cassandra scoffed beside him, rolling her eyes. I tried not to laugh, but found myself unable not to at least chuckle under my breath. He had a way of cutting tension effortlessly.

“It makes me nervous to keep hearing that there are ‘stories’ about me.”

Harding shook her head. “Oh, there’s nothing to worry about. They only say you’re the last great hope for Thedas.”

“Oh,” I replied, closing my eyes. “Wonderful.”

“The Hinterlands are as good a place as any to start fixing things,” she continued. “We came to secure horses from Redcliffe’s old horsemaster.” Harding paused a moment, really looking me over. “I grew up here,” she admitted, “and people always said that Dennet’s herds were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But with the mage-templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he’s even still alive.” She sighed, her expression serious, concerned. “Mother Giselle’s at the crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there, too. Coporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won’t be able to hold out very long.” She nodded firmly. “You best get going. No time to lose.”

I nodded to the scout, noticing a long scar down her left cheek, old and faded. “Thank you, Scout Harding. We’ll be off.”

She inclined her head respectfully and disappeared, back to her work. I watched her go, and then looked towards the crossroads. We were high up on the foothill at the base of a mountain; there was a dirt path leading down, towards the crossroads and the sound of fighting. I looked at my company, trying not to think about the fact that I might have to attack…people.

“Well,” I said, turning towards the path, “let’s get started.”

We walked silently down the path, past soldiers training and scouts (maybe Leliana’s?), well, _scouting_. Some of the soldiers were resting, leaning heavily on their large shields, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. A stone wall, with large rocks dug into the ground to mark the path, guided us down the gentle slope. I heard a bleat in the distance, and saw a ram chasing a fennec over a nearby hill. Once we reached the bottom of the path, where it turned into a road, we saw an abandoned cabin, its roof overgrown with grass and partly caved in. I ran past it—we could explore it later, once the immediate danger was over. There, once we passed the cabin, was a signpost informing us Redcliffe castle was one way, and the village another. Just as we were turning towards the village, I saw a flash of green light. The mark on my hand pulsed, throbbing and painful, and I knew there was a tear nearby.

“A tear,” I said, informing the others. “We should deal with it immediately.”

“But our forces need backup,” Cassandra said, looking up to the decrepit ruin atop another hill, where the rift was glowing and pulsing and sending out waves of energy.

I bit back a snarky reply about how four people would do little in the coming battle. “Demons may be pouring out of it right now,” I said instead. “Think of the damage they could do, to all and sundry. As barbaric as I may think the templars, and as desperate as the mages might be, they are _less likely to harm average folk than demons_.”

“You’ve clearly never been to Kirkwall, Sun-Blossom.”

I gave Varric a quick look, then began heading up the steep incline, towards the rift. “I have faith in our Corporal Vale to hold out long enough for us to close this. He is capable.”

Cassandra made her displeased noise, but followed along behind me, clearly accepting my lead—which was a little strange, come to think of it. I had no military experience, no training, yet these people trusted me and my judgment. It was…odd. The path up was steeper than the one we had just traversed, and was surrounded with huge blocks of raw stone and felled trees, leading up a giant stone ruin and, sure enough, demons. A giant Ferelden Mabari totem lay on its side, sad and fallen, perhaps an allegory for the tribulations Ferelden had undergone for the last decade. A dead tree, brown and crisp, had fallen beside it, knocking down some of the stone from the wall around the ruin. The light from the tear glowed green and strong just behind that wall.

I took a deep breath, nodded to my company, and charged. Lesser shades, three of them. Their grey skin glinted in the sun; their tattered skirts swept over the dirt, dragging along as they rushed us on sight. As if sensing the mark, they all made a bee-line for me, that is until Cassandra let out a gut-wrenching bellow that drew their attention and focus. Varric was already firing at the lot of them, whistling a tune under his breath, which seemed to aid his focus. Solas froze one of the demons and nodded to me. I nodded back, fade stepped to the tear, and let out a burst of light and energy as I began to close it. My staff pulsed hot with fire magic behind me. My stress must have been affecting my magic, which in turn must have been activating my staff. The tear above us pulsed and shot out a wave of energy which stunned the two surviving lesser shades.

I spun around and took aim, hoping to destroy them before they awoke from their trance. Once they were gone, the rift above us pulsed and glowed, getting ready to spew out another wave of demons. Three lesser shades and what I thought must have been a despair demon appeared. It blasted Varric with a beam of ice, chilling him, so I sent a wave of fire its way, catching it alight and making it scream with panic. Solas finished it off with another fire spell as Cassandra beheaded a lesser shade, trying to take advantage of Varric’s shocked state.

“Behind you!” Solas yelled, too late as a lesser shade sliced into my back. I let out a yelp of surprise and ducked and spun, using my stave to slash at the thing even as I sent a wave of magic to propel it backwards. Cassandra was busy defending Varric from the other shade, but Solas was sprinting my way, casting a freezing spell on the shade attacking me, immobilizing it. I continued hacking at it as Solas reached my side and set the thing on fire. It screamed and exploded, leaving behind nothing but a pile of electric green goo.

With the demons gone, I spun around again and aimed the mark at the rift above. A burst of energy and stream of light later, the rift sealed in a flash, leaving me feeling somewhat drained. My back stung a little, but I could tell my leather armor had done a decent job of protecting me. That didn’t stop Solas from insisting that I drink a potion, examining me briefly, and telling Cassandra we should go back for a change of armor. I waved him off, more concerned with Varric.

“You okay, Varric?” I asked, eyeing the dwarf’s runny nose. He grinned at me and blew his nose into a scrap of cloth that must have passed as a kerchief.

“I’ll be fine, Sun-Blossom. Nothing a mug of strong ale later won’t cure.”

I smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. “Good! Now, let’s go rescue Corporal Vale.”

When I began to climb up, into the ruins, Cassandra stopped me. “Should not we go back down?”

I shook my head, motioning forward. “No, we can get there through the ruins. Besides, this way we may actually be able to flank whomever we are fighting.”

She looked dubious, but acquiesced. We walked in silence up into the ruins, but I had to stop a moment at how beautiful it was. The walls were tall, broken, but not without power. Someone had painted colorful designs on one of the far walls, and a tree was growing out of the center of the compound. Flowers grew wild, elfroot was abundant, and a tower, mostly intact, loomed high above us.

“That tower is impressive,” Solas said, his voice a gentle melody that only added to the beauty of our surroundings, “even as a ruin. I wonder what dreams it might hold?”

I smiled at him, glad I wasn’t the only one who thought this place marvelous. “We should make camp here later. Maybe we can explore it in the Fade together.”

He looked genuinely taken aback. Perhaps no one had ever offered to go with him into the Fade? I didn’t want to ask. His expression melted into a smile that was so genuine it made my heart ache.

“I would like that,” he said, softly, inclining his head in thanks.

I grinned back at him, feeling a rush. Time alone with Solas, _yes_! But then I heard voices nearby and remembered what we were here to do: kill. I swallowed, my heart beating fast, bile in my mouth, my pulse suddenly throbbing in my ears. I felt faint. I grabbed Cassandra’s arm, my eyes wide. “Cass— _Templars_ —do you…do you think we can try _talking_ to them? Not attack right away?”

“They have been attacking our forces, as have the mages,” she said, obviously befuddled. “They will likely not give us pause to start a dialogue.”

“ _Please_ ,” I whispered harshly, tears pricking my eyes. “Can we at least _try_? I will go first—I will take the risk of the blow, but I—”

“Herald,” she said firmly, slipping back to the unwanted title for the first time in two days, “you are the one with the marked hand. You must not die.”

“Some people can’t be reasoned with, Blossom,” Varric said, as gently as he could.

“But we could at least _try_ —”

I was cut off by a war cry. It seemed while I had dithered, pleading with my friends, the templars had stumbled upon us—perhaps that was their tent in the far corner of the ruins. They were charging us, one of them with his sword raised high in the air; another, in bulkier armor, was hiding behind a large shield as he slowly advanced on our party. Quickly, I sent out a blast of ice magic, freezing the one sprinting towards us in place.

“Wait!” I cried. “Please! We don’t have to fight! We are not your enemies!”

“Hold!” Cassandra cried beside me. “We are not apostates!”

“I do not think they care, Seeker,” Varric muttered to himself.

“Die, Mage!” another screamed, running past his frozen comrade, sword raised above his head. I let out a small shriek, sending another wave of ice magic, hoping to freeze him in place long enough to negotiate a truce. It either missed or he dispelled it because he kept charging at me. I stood there, frozen, unable to comprehend that this human, this _man_ , a person, was charging me for no other reason than the fact that I had magic—that I was strange to him, and untrustworthy. His sword was held up, high, and he was so close, but I couldn’t move—I couldn’t think, I couldn’t say anything, I just _stared_.

Thank the Creators for Cass. She let out a blood-curdling cry and kicked him straight in the chest, sending him flying backwards. She had her sword in hand, shield ready, and charged. Varric was letting bolt after bolt fly, whistling to himself again, just as he had before with the demons. Solas cast me a look and I couldn’t read his expression, and then he was casting spells, attacking as well. I stood there, shaking, in shock, that is until the templar with the giant shield slammed Cass and knocked her back onto the ground. I saw blood on her face. He threw his sword up, ready to strike her and something inside of me snapped. I screamed and blasted him with a wave of raw energy. I poured energy into him until he was glowing and we were both screaming and then suddenly he wasn’t screaming any longer and I was the only one screaming and everything around me was noise and color and ice cold and I couldn’t stop the magic pouring out of me—I couldn’t stop it; it just kept coming and then something hit me over the head and darkness swept over me like the tide, drowning me.

I awoke seconds later, on my back and with a dull throb behind my left eye. I blinked, the sunlight too bright, obscuring the faces hovering over me.

“You all right there, Sun-Blosssom?” Varric’s hands, warm and strong and callused, helped me sit up. I touched the back of my head gingerly, wincing at the pain. Solas put a potion in my hands and demanded that I drink. I did so obligingly.

“She really did a number on you, huh?” Varric said.

“‘She?’” I asked. That was when I realized Cassandra wasn’t looking at me. She was shifting nervously a few feet away, looking anywhere but at me.

“Our Seeker knocked you over the head. Good thing, too; after you exploded those templars,” plural—more than one—great, “your magic wasn’t stopping. You were creating a rift.”

“Created,” Solas corrected. “It is stable, neither open nor truly closed. I think you will need to open it to close it properly.”

The potion took effect quickly, healing the hurt in my head. It didn’t stop my hands from shaking, though. I could feel the rift above us, and looked up at the small green tear. It was better than looking around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see blood smears and didn’t want to know what I had done. Solas must have sensed my thoughts, for he said, “It must have been some time since the renegade templars faced a mage of any talent. They were unable to stand against or dispel your magic.”

“I’ve never killed someone before,” I said bleakly. My voice was dry, distant. Things were happening around me, and my body was speaking, but it wasn’t me—I wasn’t here. I was outside of my body, watching everything, detached. “I’ve never murdered someone.”

“You’ve killed demons,” Varric put in. “Just think of them as human demons.”

I shook my head. “Demons don’t die. They’re like spirits. It’s like a…a start over, for the demon. Their personality may be gone, but they still exist.”

“Perhaps they are now at the side of the Maker,” Cassandra finally said. “And while I understand your shock, we do not have time to wallow. We must press on. Lives depend on us.”

I nodded, mutely, but found it difficult to stand on my own. Solas reached down and helped me up, kept an arm around my waist until he knew I could keep my footing. “The soldiers are not so different from the spirits in the Fade,” he said. “Their essence will also continue. Like the spirits and demons, they may not remember who they were before, but they will continue. Energy can be neither created, nor destroyed.”

“Only transformed,” I said. Maybe later that would make me feel better, but at the moment, I felt nothing. Hollow, with the sensation of unease churning in my gut. I put it on the back burner. People needed help. The templars and mages too, none of them would wait for me to gather myself and heal. I had to keep going and try to heal along the way. I opened the rift with a burst of light and energy, but no demon poured out. They must have been all killed at the other rift earlier, or were too slow to pass through before I had it closed.

I stared at my hand after we had it closed. I could open rifts. I could _create a rift._ Maybe we could go bodily into the Fade. I glanced up at Solas from beneath my eyelashes, contemplating. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but I had a feeling he would be…interested in that development. Maybe we could talk about it later while I would be doing anything but thinking about the men I had killed. I swallowed and forced my feet forward.

“Come; it’s like Cass said. We don’t have time for me to freak out.” We walked quickly over the grass, and I focused on the sensation of it brushing against my knees. Anything to keep from thinking. We came across a lake, Lake Luthias, Cassandra informed me. Varric suggested we could set up camp here later, and I agreed. We then made our way down a steep slope, the dirt path scattered with loose gravel. I lost my footing once, mostly because my knees gave out on me. I was too shaky to stand, so Cassandra offered me a hand. I apologized maybe a thousand times, my sight blurring with tears as we made our way down. We could hear the fighting, louder now. We came across another ruin at the base of the foothills, and templars and mages were battling pell-mell across the mud and puddles and broken things.

“Look at this,” Cassandra said in disgust. “The apostates have gone mad with power.”

“I see just as many templars,” Solas countered.

A cart had overturned; there was fire in the distance, screaming and noises of chaos. I felt sick. So much violence. I nearly tripped over a corpse and suddenly found myself vomiting by the side of the road, on my knees, grass all around me, the smell of death mixing with the scent of the forest and fire.

The sounds of fighting intensified, and I was distantly aware that my company was defending me as I sat, helpless and wretched and retching, unable to even stand. I heard Varric grunt beside me as he was shoved back by a mage’s spell. His coattails caught fire and, cursing, he tried to stamp them out as he aimed Bianca. Spitting out my last mouthful of bile, I stretched out my shaking hand and sent a blast of ice his way. Thankfully, it was just enough to put out the fire. He didn’t take his eyes off of his target, but he nodded his thanks as he let another bolt fly.

People were dying all around me. A templar skewered a mage on the end of his sword not too far away; a mage froze and shattered a templar just beyond that. Enough.

 _Enough_. Enough. ENOUGH.

I didn’t realize I was chanting the word over and over again until I was on my feet, my hands shaking from the energy pulsing through me. I didn’t think. I just moved, acting on instinct. My eyes skimmed the field of battle. My friends were struggling; there were only three of them. We weren’t yet at the battle with our soldiers. This was a skirmish, nearby yes, but too far away to be assisted. I raised my left hand up high, my body positively singing with energy—trembling and high from emotion and stress and adrenalin. A bolt of green light exploded around me and every single nerve ending in my body felt like it was on fire. A rift opened overhead, but rather than funneling energy into it to close it, I _pulled_. I drew on the energy from it, from its other side, and I _pulled_ and filled myself until I was so full theenergy had nowhere to go but _out_.

I screamed and for a moment, everything went black. When I came to, I was on my knees, head bowed. The rift was gone and everything was eerily quiet. I looked up, or tried to—the sunlight was blinding, and I winced away from it. I squinted, adjusting slowly. My companions—where were they? Cassandra was standing in the shade of one of the ruins, her sword limp at her side, staring at…a templar who was suspended mid-air, surrounded by soft green light that pulsed gently, like a slow heartbeat. I felt dizzy. I looked around me and as far as I could see, bodies were suspended in green light. Had I…oh Creators, had I _killed them all_?

“They are not dead,” Solas said from beside me. I jumped a little, but was too tired to do much more than blink up at him slowly. “It seems as if they are all…asleep. You have defeated them without spilling blood.”

I swallowed, or tried to—my throat was dry and burned raw. The apostate squatted beside me, unhooked a water skein from his belt, and offered it to me. I took it with a grateful nod, but my hands were shaking too hard to undo the strings at its mouth. His fingers, long and cool, stilled my efforts. He undid the ties easily, and helped me lift it to my mouth to drink. I emptied half of it before pausing to gasp. I felt as if I hadn’t had water in days. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back and finished it. He took it from me when I finished, and gingerly helped me stand. Aside from the fact that my hands were trembling, I felt…fine. My throat burned, yes, but I imagined that was mostly from vomiting. And screaming.

“Where’s Varric. Is he—?” I looked around frantically, realizing for the first time that he wasn’t in sight.

“Here, Sun-Blossom,” came his response from behind me. I spun around, eyes wide. He was leaning against a tree, putting Bianca away. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Thank Fen’Harel you’re all right,” I said, my voice a whoosh of air.

“Thank _you_ ,” he returned, one eyebrow raising. “I’ve never seen something like that before. I didn’t know it was possible.”

“It isn’t,” Solas said simply. I blinked at him, still a little stunned.

“Then how did I—?”

He shook his head. Cassandra finally joined us, and the way she looked at me nearly broke my heart. It was equal parts caution and…anger? Fear? I couldn’t tell. Nothing happy.

“We must continue on if we are to secure the alliance.”

“What about the templars and apostates?” I asked, looking at them in their glowing cocoons. “Can we send some soldiers to…I don’t know, take them into custody? Without killing them?”

“We can discuss that after the matter at hand has been dealt with.”

I nodded, forcing myself to function. I had done enough freaking out for the moment. We had people to save, and there was no time for me to waste crying and wondering what I had done. I used the crumbling stone wall beside me to steady myself. I still felt like I was floating outside of my body, watching myself act but not actually participating. A hand squeezed my shoulder, and I looked to see Solas smile at me, the barest turn of his mouth. I nodded, appreciating the gesture of support. Everyone was okay. That was what truly mattered. We set off towards what looked like an old, crumbling castle, but turned out to be the entrance to a cavernous passage through a stone foothill. The passage was overgrown with roots and small weeds, but was maintained enough to have braziers blazing, providing light to see—and keep the giant spiders at bay. A smaller mabari totem greeted us on the other side, and I knew we were finally at the crossroads.

With a new burst of energy, I sprinted towards the sounds of combat.

“Inquisition forces!” Cassandra called, easily keeping pace. “They’re trying to protect the refugees!”

Varric, lagging just slightly behind, was already loading Bianca. “Looks like they could use a hand!”

Because we had approached through the rear, we were actually able to flank the rioting apostates and templars. A templar had a sword raised above a woman who was screaming, pinned against, what seemed to be, a makeshift barricade of wooden crates and barrels. My heart slammed against my rib cage and I froze the templar, allowing the woman to scramble away. We had to protect the refugees. It shouldn’t have been, but this seemed different than the skirmish before. Before, we had attacked and the fighting had seemed so senseless. While the conflict _was_ senseless now as well, we were defending those who needed us. It wasn’t my life on the line, but those who had no means to protect themselves. I grit my teeth and set the templar aflame, before falling into place beside Solas as I had the first time we battled, at that rift. I slowed my breathing and let his focus guide me, and soon our movements flowed, synchronized in harmony as we defended those refugees from the chaos surrounding them.

Solas did something I hadn’t seen before—he laid a glyph on the ground, and it set the rebel apostate who stepped on it on fire. Interesting. I hadn’t thought to lay glyphs before. I tried it, weaving a pattern of magic onto the ground—I made a pattern based on how ice magic _felt_. A templar stumbled over it, then screamed as ice traveled up his leg, spread across his hips and torso, then finally consumed him totally. The ice surrounding him shimmered, and with a flash, he had turned into pure ice—an ice statue replica of a screaming templar. That…wasn’t right. That wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

Solas must have agreed because he paused just long enough to say, “Your way with magic is…extraordinary. We must have a discussion later.”

Then I saw that one of our soldiers was flagging, gripping her side as she tried to defend herself against a mage. I reached out and sent a wave of energy her way, focusing on healing as I did. The energy hit her and she perked up, releasing her side and defeating the mage with renewed vigor.

“Be ready!” Solas called beside me, his staff held low, his body ready to defend against another onslaught. “More coming our way!”

I nodded, glancing over at Varric. “How are you holding up, Blondie?”

“‘Blondie?’” he said with a laugh. “I’m not Blondie; that’s…someone else.” He gave me a sad smile, clearly thinking of something distant. “I’m right as rain in a thunderstorm.”

“Cass?”

The Seeker nodded, crouching low, sword in hand. “Let us focus on the battle at hand.”

I nodded, turning around just in time as a wave of templars came at us. One knight came charging straight at me, running past one of our soldiers. His armor gleamed in the light of the sun, his helmet glinting and making it difficult to look at him directly. He charged with a cry that actually stunned me. I blinked at him, my hearing thrown completely off. Luckily for me, Varric managed to plant a bolt in the small slit of a visor in his massive helmet. The knight stumbled back, letting out an anguished cry, and one of our soldiers finished him off.

Somewhat shaken again, I forced myself back into the rhythm of casting magic alongside Solas. Again, his concentration fueled me and I was able to slow my heart and focus on weaving magic. When the last templar fell, Cassandra walked up beside me. She nodded.

“It’s done.”

It took several hours to calm things down; the sun was low in the sky by the time we actually were ready to find Mother Giselle. Somewhere along the way, we had lost Solas to the care of the refugees—healing and offering solace to the wounded and suffering. As much as I desired his company meeting the Mother, his compassion made my chest tight. He was such a compassionate person, I…

“You ready, Sun-Blossom?” Varric looked up at me, smiling. He had a scrape across his nose, but otherwise seemed fine. None of us had been seriously hurt. Along with seeing to the restoration of order, Cassandra had sent a unit of soldiers to collect the mages and templars I had frozen before—who were still suspended in a state of glowing sleep. To waken them, I had to touch each one with my marked hand, absorbing the energy from the Fade. When it was made clear that we were not going to kill them, most of the apostates agreed to a truce—peace in exchange for aiding the refugees. The templars, and thankfully there were fewer of them by far, were not so agreeable. They were to be taken back to Haven for Commander Rutherford to deal with.

“I think so,” I said to Varric after a moment of watching our soldiers settle the crowds, put out fires and try to restore order. We found Mother Giselle tending to the wounded.

“Mother Giselle?” I asked, tentatively, hating to interrupt.

“I am. And you must be the one they’re calling the Herald of Andraste,” she replied, standing and moving onto the next one in need.

“Not through any choice of mine,” I said, perhaps a touch more acerbically than I had meant.

She took no offense. “We seldom have much say in our fate, I’m sad to say.”

“If you believe in fate,” I countered. “I’m not sure that I do.”

“I don’t presume to know the Maker’s intentions, for any of us.” She turned to face me, truly taking stock of me for the first time. “But I did not ask you to come simply to debate with me.”

No, not at all. As it turned out, she had asked me here to try to convince me to go to the Chantry and convince them to trust me. I could have laughed. I did, in fact, and the sound was strained.

“That won’t just make things worse? Going there?”

“Let me put it this way: you needn’t convince them all. You just need some of them to _doubt_.” She looked me in the eye, her expression benevolent but stern. “Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling tense and exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to sleep. “I will consider your words. Thank you for your counsel.”

She inclined her head respectfully, the large red, white and gold headdress tilting towards me precariously. “I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering.” She paused, offering the smallest smile. “It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.”

I thanked her. Before we could make camp for the night, I still had to speak with Corporal Vale. We found him, overseeing a training session with some of the troops. He told us we were low on supplies to feed and harbor this many people—they would need food and warmth, for no one had planned on a sustained siege separating them from their homes or a large city. There was still some light to the sky, so before we made camp by Lake Luthias (or returned to where our forces had made camp), we hunted some wild ram. We killed somewhere between ten and fifteen, and brought the carcasses to the hunter who was organizing food for the refugees.

When we finally retired, there was hot stew waiting for my companions. I roasted some vegetables in the embers of the fire, and ate more food than I had since…well, since I could remember. I was exhausted, ravenous and more than ready for the day to be over. After we ate, I was in the process of making myself as comfortable as possible in a bed of grass and saddle blankets when Cassandra appeared.

“Heral— _Fen_ ,” she said, correcting herself, much to my gratitude, “we have tents here. You and I may share one. We also have found a spare bedroll.”

“A spare?” I said, sitting up. “We aren’t taking it from anyone?”

She smiled slightly, and shook her head. “No, we are not.” She offered me a hand and helped me up, and I took it, grateful for the assistance. Every muscle in my body was ready to be asleep. But before we could retire into our tent, Solas stopped us.

“Lady Seeker,” he said politely, “do you mind if perhaps Fen and I share a tent tonight?” He tilted his head, looking at me seriously. “I believe you said you wanted to walk the Fade. If you are still interested, proximity may make our joint excursion all the easier.”

My heart leapt, for more than one reason. The idea of sleeping _beside Solas, alone_ …well, that by itself would have been enough to make me eagerly nod. But that _wasn’t_ all; he also wanted to walk the Fade together—explore an ancient ruin—have an escapade!

Cassandra was looking at me dubiously. “If you desire this, then…I suppose I could sleep beside the dwarf.” She was clearly not happy with this situation, but at that moment in time, I decided Cass could take one for the team. I would have done the same for her, were our positions reversed.

“Thank you, Cass!” I said, hugging her briefly. She froze beneath my touch, clearly unused to such displays of affection, and awkwardly patted my back.

“Yes, well, as long as he does not insist on telling stories. If he does, I will be rescinding this offer and storming your tent.” She eyed me and Solas dubiously, then turned and walked towards the tent where Varric was already ensconced.

“Es-Ca-Pade,” I sang to myself, nearly clicking my heels. “We’ll have a good time! / Es-Ca-Pade / Leave your worries behind!”

Solas was looking at me, clearly amused by my antics. “I may not be able to find you if you are not a…lucid dreamer.” He held open the flap to a tent that was further away from the lake, nearer the old ruins we had stumbled upon earlier. Before the…I stopped that train of thought. Nope. Do not go there, Fen. Not right now. Do not do it. I swallowed hard, forcing back tears as I climbed into the tent. Seeing as I now had a sleeping roll, I unwound the wraps on my feet, and began removing my jacket and shirt. Solas, whom I had not heard enter the tent, cleared his throat.

“ _Lethallan_ …?”

I blinked back at him, surprised at how close was. We both had to hunch inside the tent, and it was not very wide. I tilted my head, not understanding. “Is something the matter?” I was suddenly glad that I had refreshed myself at the edge of the lake earlier, as three hard days of travel might smell up a tent very quickly otherwise.

“You are disrobing,” he said, completely serious.

I nodded. “Only partially, don’t worry your virgin eyes. But I have been sleeping in these clothes for days, and I would like to take a break from them for a few hours.” I shrugged out of my shirt, squirmed out of my pants, and then crawled into my bedroll. Solas was already in his by the time I had finished arranging my jacket beneath my head as a sort of pillow. I glanced over at him, unable not to smile—until I thought of those templars, charging at me, the smears of blood I saw from the corner of my eye.

I didn’t realize I was crying until Solas stirred and propped himself up on his elbow to ask, “ _Lethallan_?”

I sniffed, hiding my face beneath my blanket, giving him my back. “I’m fine, _falon_ ,” I lied, unconvincingly considering how my voice broke.

He sighed heavily, and I couldn’t tell if it was annoyed or empathetic. And suddenly there was an arm around me, pulling me bodily, with my bedding and all, against him. Even through the bedroll, I could feel the warmth from his chest, the strength in his arm as it clasped my shoulders firmly. Just my shoulders—that was all he touched. Even his chest was an inch or so from my back. I sniffed, crying a little bit harder at the compassion being shown me.

“ _Ir abelas, falon_ ,” I managed to say without too much choking. “ _Ir abelas_ —”

“Hush, _lethallan_ ,” he said, his voice gentle and soft. “You have never seen bloodshed before?”

I shook my head. “And I…I’ve never…I killed…” I swallowed, forcing the image of blood and gore, the bodies littering the forest, out of my head. “I know it is so irrational,” I said, my voice cracking, “but I want something life affirming. I wish more than anything I had a lover. I just…I just…” a sob broke my words apart.

Solas gave me another squeeze. “I wish I could give that to you, _lethallan_.”

“ _Banal_!” I exclaimed, shaking my head and turning to look at him. “No, no I did _not_ mean that. I wasn’t implying—I wasn’t asking for that. I just…” I closed my eyes, burying my face into my blankets. “I just don’t want to think about anything. I want someone to drive thoughts out of my head.”

One of his hands, warm and strong, wove its way through my hair and cradled the back of my head. Then, his voice, so soft and so gentle and so incredibly melodic, filled the air with the soothing sound of music.

“Heruamin lotirien / Alais uethri maeria / Halurocon yalei nam bahna / Dolin nereba maome.”

He sang to me “Ame Amin”—“I am the One”—gently, comfortingly. His voice shaped the words with such beauty, such clarity, their sound the only thing that I could hear, could think of. He sang each verse slowly, lulling me and relaxing my sobs. Soon, I wasn’t sobbing—I was barely crying as I felt sleep creep through me, exhaustion once again setting in and taking my thoughts away.

 

 

**~**

 

 

When I opened my eyes, I knew I was in the Fade. Everything was dark, and I heard the steady drip of water from a distance. Was I…was this a _cave_? What happened to the ruins? To the tower? It was so dark, I could only discern vague shapes, rocks, stalagmites, stalactites, in the surrounding area.

“Solas…?”

A laugh, warm and rich and deep as the night, rolled through me, making my skin prickle. It hit me, hard, in the ovaries. I spun around, unable to see anyone except for the vague outline of a person standing several feet away.

“Not _quite_ ,” came the husky reply—his voice was deep, rough, and so familiar. It made my knees weak, just a little. I always had been a sucker for a deep voice.

“Not Mythal, surely,” I said, trying to keep this light. Whoever this was, he didn’t feel like a spirit or a demon. He felt as he sounded—familiar.

“No, though I do count her as a friend, _da’falon_.” He stirred, moving closer, and now I could see the outline of his hair—long, thick curls, hanging in cords down his bare chest and back. I swallowed. Hard. My pulse jumped and my knees were weak.

“Fen’Harel,” I said. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself into his arms, to have him sweep me away in a riot of sensation. I wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to run my fingers through that mane of hair and whisper to him how much I loved him. Which was odd, considering how I felt for Solas—it was just as strong. Maybe…maybe I was poly? But in my head, it was almost impossible to differentiate the two—Solas and Fen-Harel. They elicited the same reaction.

“It has been long,” he said, his voice like velvet and leather, “since anyone has called me by that name.” He stepped close to me, and I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. He wore a large coat, trimmed with fur, but no shirt beneath—it was left to fall open, and in the dim light, I could see the contours of the musculature of his chest. I swallowed again, looking away quickly, my heart racing.

“Fen’Harel take me in a cave,” I whispered under my breath, trying to calm my erratic pulse. His laugh shot through me, heading straight down my spine to curl and radiate heat in my sex.

“That may have been the idea,” he said, his voice soft but rough. One hand, large and firm, reached out and cupped my cheek. His thumb brushed over my lower lip and I nearly lost my balance. “You say the most…interesting things.” He tilted his head back, and I could see the gleam in his eye, the smile that curved his lips, though his features were mostly obscured by darkness. “What was it? ‘Fen’Harel take me in a cave on all fours, bound and gagged?’”

“Did I say that?” I said, after clearing my throat. My hands were shaking. I reached out, bold, and grabbed the shag of his coat, tugging it gently. “Maybe not gagged. But I am willing to try bound.”

His thumb ran over the swell of my lip again and I felt my knees quiver in response. My sex clenched, heat spreading through me as I stepped closer to him, tipping my head back. He closed the small distance between us, one of his arms snaking around my waist. He jolted me closer, our bodies crushed together, his strength enormous. I made a small noise of desire, and then his mouth was on mine, covering it completely. One of his hands skimmed my hip and settled over my bottom, gripping and squeezing it hard as his tongue parted my lips. I gasped at the feel and his tongue invaded my mouth, his hand on my butt pressing me closer, hips grinding against hips. I wrapped myself around him as my tongue responded to his—one hand burying in his hair, gripping it, feeling how soft and warm and alive it was. My other hand gave him the same treatment he was giving me—I reached around him and grabbed his bottom, pleasantly surprised by the amount of firm flesh. I nipped his lower lip and he made a noise in his throat that had liquid pooling between my legs. He tasted so good—smelled so good, like spice and pine and…that distinctly _male_ scent—testosterone maybe? It made me think of…

He broke the kiss, pulling back sharply. “What?” he asked, his voice not only hoarse with desire but also sharp with confusion.

“I…what?” I said, blinking, unable to focus.

“You said ‘Solas,’” he said.

It was hard to think because his hand was still on my butt and it had begun to massage me, his fingers kneading into the muscle. I rocked my hips, standing on my tiptoes to roll my mound against his growing excitement. He made another noise in his throat, a growl, and suddenly I was slammed against a wall, the surface surprisingly soft, and his mouth was once more covering mine. I clutched at him, wrapping my legs around his waist because I didn’t need to stand with how hard I was pressed to the wall. That put us in…a very explicit position. I could feel his erection through both of our pants, could feel the moisture soaking through mine as he began to rock his hips against me. One of his hands still gripped my bottom firmly, but the other now sought one of my breasts, his thumb rubbing across my nipple, his palm holding the weight of my breast. I cried out at the feel, but the sound was absorbed by his mouth.

I broke the kiss to bite his lip again, then ran my tongue up one of the cords of his neck. I bit the flesh there, just over his pulse, and pulled some of his skin into my mouth, sucking on his neck as he continued to grind into me. I was so close—so close that I started grinding back against him and making small, desperate noises in the back of my throat.

And then there was a hand shaking me, pulling me out of the layers of sleep that had been draped over me. I swatted at whoever was cruel enough to waken me, blinking sleepily, my body sensitive to even the slightest touch, wound painfully tight.

“ _What_?” I demanded, ready to verbally _destroy_ the infidel who dared to drag me away from _that_.

“We need to get a start to the day,” Cassandra said, already moving out of the tent. “Breakfast is being cooked now. You do eat eggs, yes?”

I stared at her, her words taking time to register. “Yes,” I said, groaning as I flung myself back onto my sleeping roll. Solas was no longer beside me, and Cassandra departed quickly after. I could have _cried_. I eyed the tent flap. Maybe I had time to…

“ _Lethallan_ ,” Solas said, barging into the tent. I froze, grateful that I was buried under my blankets.

“Yes?” I squeaked, unable to move, for fear he would see me removing my hand from…ahem…

“Cassandra has entrusted me to deliver breakfast,” he said, then froze, taking note, perhaps, of my position. “Ah, I…hmm.” He set the plate down, quickly retreating backwards. “I shall…let you _eat_ in peace.”

Despite the intense embarrassment I felt (I was relatively sure that I had never had anyone walk in on me doing that before), I managed to finish myself off. My breathing was a little harsh and my toes curled, but it wasn’t nearly what I _needed_. Well—‘need’ was perhaps extreme; maybe ‘wanted with a fiery desperation that bordered on insanity’ was a better descriptor. I ate my breakfast, which had grown only _slightly_ tepid, dressed and quickly exited the tent. I stretched as I emerged, feeling sore and achy and still groggy from being pulled from deep sleep, but better than yesterday.

“You look rested, Blossom.” Varric’s smile was too wide for this early in the morning. “You and Chuckles have a good nigh last night? In the Fade?”

He was too smug, but I was too foggy-headed to come up with an appropriate quip. “No. I didn’t find him. I found an ancient deity thought long-gone and we almost had sex, but then Cassandra woke me up and I’m kind of mad about it.”

He stared at me, the edges of his smile slipping as he tried to reason out what I had said. “I…can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

I grinned at him and blew him a kiss before trudging off to find Cass. She was speaking to one of the scouts, and both were pouring over a map. I tilted my head, yawned, and looked over the scout’s shoulder. “So. To Dennet?”

The path to Dennet was more tedious than long—we came across several renegade templars and apostates; some, we were able to convince to join us; others refused and attacked. There was little else to be done about the situation. We fought. _I_ fought. It was…hard, but I didn’t have a meltdown. I don’t know if that meant I was getting stronger or deader. It didn’t matter. We had a task to accomplish. We eventually came to Dennet’s, mid-morning, almost noon. He agreed to help us—conditionally. They needed watch towers set up to help the refugees, and his wife wanted us to take care of a pack of rogue wolves. We delegated the scouting of the watch towers to, well, _scouts_. Then we set out to find these wolves.

Solas walked beside me as we trudged through the grass, passing wooden fence after wooden fence on the ranch. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and I could tell he was sorting his thoughts.

“ _Lethallan_ ,” he began suddenly, slowing further, allowing Varric and Cass to outpace us. “Your magic is…different than any I have ever seen.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay…maybe because of where I am from?”

“Perhaps,” he said, though I could tell he wasn’t sold on that idea. “How do you cast? How do you channel the energy? How do you direct ambient magic? How do you call upon the energy of the Veil? Do you warp it to enhance your spells? You’ve been learning them at an accelerated rate.”

I blinked at him. “Ambient…?” I shook my head. “No, I ah…that’s not how I do it. There’s no technique, and very little thought. I… _feel_ it into being. I feel what I want; I grow it inside me; I send it out in a burst. The movements help me focus—help me concentrate. As do you, actually.”

He tilted his head, watching me. “I help you concentrate?”

“You have this—this _focus_. It is unbreakable. It helps fuel my own.”

He smiled at me, a mere twitch of his lips. “And here I had been under the impression that it was _your_ focus that was indomitable.”

I felt my lips curve into a grin. “You think my focus is indomitable?”

“I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that the sight would be… _fascinating_.”

Was it my imagination or was he flirting with me? Was that…was that _heat_ in his gaze as he smirked at me?

“Dread Wolf take me from behind in a field of flowers,” I said in a rush of breath, my cheeks growing pink. Solas’ eyebrows shot up and while his smile widened, the slightest color touched his throat—and yes, of course I noticed, I was staring at every inch of him.

“You do say the most…stimulating things,” he said, turning his gaze forward as Varric called for us to hurry up. He picked up his pace to oblige, and I watched him outpace me. I swallowed, feeling my knees tremble. Stimulating. He had said _stimulating_. Oh, Creators. Maybe…maybe how I felt wasn’t as hopeless as I had anticipated. I couldn’t fight the grin that spread across my face, or the swell of hope in my chest. There was probably a skip in my step as I jogged to catch up.

We decided to set up a camp just outside of Master Dennet’s estate. It was mid-afternoon when we climbed down the slope leading to a river that would take us to where the blighted wolves had made their home. Because our task wasn’t complicated enough, we stumbled across a rift that needed to be closed. The demons here were…difficult. Varric nearly fell victim to a despair demon at one point, and I was careless enough to receive a deep wound on my thigh from a terror demon as it transported itself to my location. Cassandra was there to beat it off of me, and give me time to down a health potion before sealing the rift for good. We took a moment to recover, then began the mild climb up a hill and towards the caves where the wolves were.

The song of the river rushing by was a comforting one. My companions had to stop me from picking some spindleweed along the way—there was so much! It was almost instinctive. They had already told me earlier when I tried to mine some iron ore from the side of one of the mountains in the area that someone else from the Inquisition would do that—a scout or some such. I learned my lesson when, when I thought they were not looking, I reached for a spindleweed on the very edge of the ridge overlooking the river and slipped on mud and fell into the river below. It took an hour or three before I was truly dry after that, but at least my clothes felt cleaner than they had in days!

“Maybe I was wrong about you being clumsy, Sun-Blossom,” Varric said with a teasing smile as I squeezed my hair, trying to wring out the excess water. I stuck my tongue out at him but softened it with a smile.

There was some sort of camp set up outside of the caves—crude and small, and the party that had created it attacked us before I could truly identify them. After we dealt with them, one of the wolves—clearly not in its right mind—lunged from the caves, snarling and foaming, and attacked us. Solas and I froze it at the same time, and Cassandra shattered it with a blow from her shield. I looked at it sadly and shook my head.

“This is not normal behavior for wolves. They are intelligent beings, not raving beasts that attack just anything. I wonder if a demon is at work here.”

While Varric made a remark about not being sure that was the case, Solas was appraising me with clear admiration. “I had been wondering the same thing,” the elven mage said, inclining his head respectfully. “It is good to know that I was not alone in such thoughts.”

“Whatever the case may be,” Cassandra said, turning towards the entrance to the caves, “We must-needs deal with them now, else we lose the opportunity of acquiring Master Dennet’s assistance.”

Determined, we ventured into the caves. Several more wolves were waiting, enraged and crazed. It was a small pack, but ferocious. It turned out our suspicions were correct; a demon also lay in wait. Another terror. This one was alone, and so it was easier to defeat. We searched the area for goods when we were done, for any piece of information that might be had to obtain, and then we returned to camp.

The sun was just setting as we ate our dinner. Varric told a tale of Hawke rescuing a young woman who had been kidnapped on the Wounded Coast, and how she wouldn’t stop raving about a dream-lover. I may have choked on a bite of potato at that, and spent the next few minutes coughing to clear my throat. After much laughter at my expense, Varric stood, cracking his back.

“Well, we better turn in, Seeker.”

Cassandra’s head snapped up from where she had been dumping the remnants of her soup. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, Seeker,” Varric said patiently. “Let those two Fade Nuts explore their dreams together. Besides, Sun-Blossom’s a light sleeper and you talk. A lot.”

“I do not,” she said sharply, standing abruptly.

“Oh? Then how would I know that you were dreaming about fighting a dragon alongside Hawke last night?”

Cassandra’s cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink. She stiffly ducked into Varric’s tent, but not before saying acerbically, “At least I do not _snore_.”

Varric chuckled, winked at me, and disappeared into his tent.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I remedied this by taking a large sip of water and doing anything other than looking at Solas. He stood, but didn’t head towards the tent. I straightened slightly, finally looking at him.

“Are you not…?”

He tilted his head, regarding me. “Am I not what, _lethallan_?”

“Ah…” My gaze dropped to my hands, watching myself twist the leather of my jacket tightly at its hem. “Are you not sleeping with me tonight?”

His eyebrows rose and I realized too late my poor word choice. “I have every intention of ‘sleeping with you’ tonight. But I thought I might freshen up in the lake. This way, you will have a chance to disrobe and settle into bed in privacy.”

My eyes were so wide, but I couldn’t close them. I nodded mutely, not trusting my voice. I _wished_ he was sleeping with me this night. Oh, yes, did I wish that very much. After he had gone, I crept into our tent and did as he had suggested—disrobed and crawled into my bedroll. My hair felt clean thanks to my unexpected bath earlier, and I was almost glad I had embarrassed myself yet again. Though…it would be something to be at the lake now, idly picking blood lotus and watching Solas bathe.

Wow. Way to be creepy, me. But now that I was thinking of it, I couldn’t get the image out of my head—the way water might run down his creamy chest, his muscles slender yet firm. I felt my breath hitch; I had to calm down before Solas returned, or he might not trust sleeping next to me—especially after this morning. I had a sinking suspicion he had known _exactly_ what I was up to. So I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and sang a song to myself, softly. My voice soared quietly, hitting the high notes and shimmering down into the low ones, not feeling tense because there was no one to hear me.

“A king he was on carven throne / In many-pillared halls of stone / With golden roof and silver floor / And runes of power upon the door / The light of sun and star and moon / In shining lamps of crystal hewn / Undimmed by cloud or shade of night / There shone forever fair and bright / The world is grey, the mountains old / The forge’s fire is ashen-cold / No harp is wrung, no hammer falls / The darkness dwells in Durin’s halls / The shadow lies upon his tomb / In Moria, in Khazad-Dûm / But still the sunken stars appear / In dark and windless Mirrormere / There lies his crown in water deep / ’Til Durin wakes again from sleep .”

My pulse, which had dropped to a slow and steady rate, shot up again when the tent flap opened and Solas stepped in, shirtless and still dewy from the lake. I flipped over, giving him my back, my eyes wide and my breathing erratic.

“That was beautiful, _lethallan_ ,” he said softly as he rustled into his bedding. I had to clear my throat three times before I could get the words to come.

“Wh-what was?”

“The song you sang. I am sorry to seem duplicitous, but I listened to it just outside the tent. I thought if I entered, you would stop and I did not want that.”

I swallowed hard again, wincing my eyes closed. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Yes, very much so. Now let us sleep; perchance we shall meet in the Fade and explore together.”

“I hope so,” I said honestly. “Together.”

I shouldn’t _really_ have been surprised when I opened my eyes and found myself in the Fade, but without Solas. I was standing in a field of flowers—it was dark, stars or some mysterious lights twinkling distantly overhead. The grass was soft and tall, and the flowers pulsed with soft light. They smelled exquisite, and I could have sworn they were singing to me. I sat in the grass, reaching out and letting the grass stroke my palms. It was so very soft…

“I was unsure if you would ever arrive.”

That voice had heat pooling between my legs instantly. Deep, husky, yet melodic. Fen’Harel. I smiled, despite the arousal that hit me instantly. He rustled through the tall foliage, and sat so near me I could feel the heat radiating off his bare skin. He was shirtless tonight, wearing leggings and typical elven foot-wraps for shoes. His hair was held back by a circlet of bone, but his face was cast in shadow, obscuring his features. I wanted nothing more than to push him back into that grass and show him just how _glad_ I was to see him.

“I had a hard time falling asleep,” I said, honestly. I looked around at our surroundings once more, and grinned. “Is this because of what I said earlier?”

His teeth flashed white in a smile in the dark. “Perhaps.”

“How did you hear? How do you know?” I asked, scooting closer to him, boldly allowing my fingers to brush his own. He reached out with that hand to gently circle the back of my neck with his palm, his thumb tracing slow patterns up and down the pulse that hammered wildly out of beat there.

“There is much I know that I cannot explain to you,” he said, leaning closer, dipping his head so his mouth was scant centimeters from my own. “And would you waste our time together talking?”

I wanted to tell him that talking to him would never be a waste; I wanted to tell him that I was curious about him—but I had somehow lost the ability to speak. Instead, I planted my mouth on his, taking charge of our kiss. I bit his lower lip, tugged gently until he parted his lips and I could taste him. Someone groaned, and I don’t know if it was him or myself, but I quickly found myself on my back, half of his weight pressing me into the soft, cool grass. Heat poured off his skin, soaking into me. I tangled my fingers into his hair, holding him there, not letting him break the kiss.

One of his hands still cradled the back of my neck, but the other was being…mischievous. It slipped down my stomach, tugging my shirt up to expose my skin. His palm skimmed across my flesh, tickling and enticing me, causing me to arch my spine and gasp. He pressed his advantage and this time it was _his_ tongue that invaded. I keened as his fingers began to deftly undo the laces of my trousers. He broke the kiss, his breathing harsh, his voice broken. “Tell me to stop,” he said hoarsely, “tell me to stop and I will.”

How could I tell him _anything_ when his fingers were tugging so earnestly at my pants, exposing more and more of my skin to his hungry gaze? I licked my lips, reveling in their sensitivity, how swollen they were. I shook my head, swallowed, and somehow found my voice. “Don’t stop. I want this. I want you.”

I couldn’t quite tell, but I thought he smirked as his head bent once more to my own. He covered my mouth with his own, his tongue a gentle insistence on my lips until I opened up to him. I gasped at the sensation when his fingers buried themselves in the crotch of my pants and brushed across the mound of my sex. His other hand slid from my neck to my breast, once again thumbing the nipple and squeezing the aching flesh. My hips rocked, trying to get his fingers further down, further _in_. My fingers were lost in his hair, tugging him even closer, demanding more as his mouth worked on mine. His fingers parted my lower lips, stroked the outer labia so gently I thought I had almost imagined the touch. But when his thumb found my clit, I knew I had imagined nothing. I jolted, crying out and breaking the kiss as his finger rubbed a slow circle around the sensitive nub of flesh. I shuddered, gasping and cursing.

“ _Fenedhis lasa_!” I exclaimed, my legs widening, wanting more of him between them. His chuckle rolled through my body, shaking my spine.

“I was hoping _you_ would do that,” he said huskily into my ear, nipping the lobe as his fingers continued circling my clit, not quite touching it—not yet.

“ _What_?” I gasped, surprised I was able to speak, to _think_ , at all.

“‘ _Fenedhis lasa_ ,’” he clarified, “means go suck a wolf dick.” His breath tickled my skin and made my hips buck. “I was hoping you would do that.”

“Creators, _yes_ ,” I said, grabbing his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. “Whatever you _want_ —I just—I need—inside me, I need—!”

His fingers flicked over my clit, rolling it between two pads, making me nearly scream, my spine rising off the ground. His breathing was harsh, uneven as he slid half-onto me, his weight pinning me down. He didn’t stop teasing me, but the hand that had been on my breast was busy ripping through my shirt now, exposing my chest to the night air. My nipples couldn’t have gotten any harder, but then the cold air hit them and they beaded further. He dipped his head, his tongue swirling over one of my nipples before drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth. He sucked, _hard_ , and I screamed. His fingers were working me faster, faster— _faster_! I wasn’t going to make it—I was going to cum before he was inside me, and I _wanted him inside me so much_.

While I still had mental faculties, I began grappling at his trousers—tugging at the knots, freeing his hips. Once his pants were far enough down, I gripped his ass, squeezing it and trying to pull his hips to mine. He said something and it was too hoarse for me to understand, but the next thing I knew, his hand was pulling out of my leggings and he was tearing the clothes from my body. The leather made a satisfying _rrriiiipppp_ noise, and then I was naked completely, exposed to the night—which was odd; I usually wore small clothes. But this was the Fade, and anything was possible. He was squirming on top of me, and I realized it was because he was removing his own pants. Elation shot through me, even as my lust skyrocketed. Oh, this was _happening_!

Once we were both free of vestments, he used a knee to spread my legs and slide between them. His fingers spread my vulva, and when he pulled them away, they glistened from my wetness. His eyes, glowing almost green in the darkness, locked onto mine as he put his fingers into his mouth, tasting me. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him savor the flavor. I swallowed, my throat dry again, and, impatient now that we were so close, I wrapped one of my legs around his waist, pulling him down. My hands sought out his erection and I gasped to feel how thick, how _hot and long_ it was. At my touch, he cursed, burying his face into my neck. He bit my skin gently, groaning as I guided him inside of me. It took a bit of shifting, a bit of hip arching and spine rolling, but eventually I got his tip in far enough that he was able to take over.

And then he was kissing me, just as desperate as I felt, as his hips bucked, pushing into me fully, filling me. He was so large, _gods he was so large_! His hips rolled and his flesh collided with mine completely, skin rubbing up and down the slickness of my clit. I screamed in pleasure, my sex clenching around him tightly as he tried to begin to set a pace. His rhythmic thrusting was all I could feel—the only thing that mattered. He pulsed inside me, twitching as he slid in and out, throbbing hot and heavy. He pushed against my clit, rubbed up and down against it, further fueling my pleasure. And then one of his hands was snaking beneath my hips, angling me up as he grabbed my bottom and squeezed it fiercely. He pushed into me; he pulled out, long and slow, then short and fast with his strokes. His skin rubbed my clit—up and down, up and down—pushed against it, adding pressure on top of my mound and internal clitoral tissue. His free hand was tweaking my breast, then palming it and squeezing as he squeezed my bottom. My own hands were dragging down his back, nails biting into his skin as my teeth tore at his shoulder to keep from screaming.

But then I _was_ screaming, my entire body rising off the ground, save for my shoulders and feet as my orgasm rolled through me with a force that left me gasping. I screamed again, his name, something else, gods, maybe Solas, I didn’t know—I had no control as he continued pumping into me, grunting and groaning with explicit pleasure as I squeezed my sex around him, legs now wrapped tightly around his hips, holding him close and rocking my own hips against him to stimulate my clitoris further as the orgasm rolled through me again and again.

When it was finally done, I collapsed back onto the grass, panting wildly, arms loosely circling him. My body shivered as he continued working away inside me, his jaw clenched tight, and I clasped him, a small, mini-orgasm once again shaking me. I mewed at the sensation and then he was shoving my hips down with so much force, pushing himself as deep as he could inside of me and filling me with hot, sticky seed. I gasped at the feel, holding him close, stroking up and down his back, rolling my hips to give him additional stimulus. He was the one to curse now, his cheek pressed to mine as his arms shook, straining to support himself as he came with a force I did not expect.

Once he was finally done, he collapsed on top of me, shaking still and gasping for breath, sweat beading his skin and shining like gems in the sparkling starlight. I held him close, drinking in his scent.

“ _Falon_ ,” he said after a time, his voice hoarse from crying out, “ _ma serannas_.”

I laughed shakily, my fingers idly running through his thick locks of hair. “I should be thanking you. I haven’t come that hard in…well, I can’t remember how long.”

“Nor can I,” he admitted with a laugh that made my chest tight. He sighed and rolled off of me, but did not relinquish contact. He dragged me onto his chest, his fingertips idly running up and down one of my arms. “I should be jealous though,” he said after a time, the silence stretching between us not awkwardly, but like an old and comfortable friend.

I looked up at him from where I had been tracing runes on his chest, making his skin glow. “Jealous? Of whom? Why?”

“You said the name ‘Solas’ at least three times,” he said, his tone playful, his eyes sparkling. I could feel my cheeks heat at that.

“I…” I buried my face against his chest, seeking the words. “I don’t know how to explain it,” I said, after a time. “You and Solas…I love you both. I do. I don’t know either of you very well—you especially—but…I’ve loved you since before I met you. And the two of you…you’re confused in my head. As if you’re one person—which I know you’re not, you can’t be—but it still _feels_ like you are.”

“You do not need to explain,” he said softly, his fingers now gently running over my scalp, the touch soothing and intimate. “You owe me nothing. I am grateful for any stolen moment I have with you—no excuse or explanation required.” His fingers traced down the side of my face to my chin, where he raised my face to his. He kissed me softly, sweetly, nipping me at the end as if he couldn’t deny his nature, even for one kiss. I swallowed, lowering my cheek once more to his chest, looking out at the sea of glowing flowers.

“What happens now?” I asked, my voice uncertain.

“Now?” he said, his hands stilling on my shoulder. “Now I am afraid you must wake up. But I will see you soon.”

 

 

**~**

 

 

I sat up in my bedroll, looking around blearily, half-expecting to see Fen’Harel lying beside me, smiling at me wickedly. But no; Solas slumbered silently to my right, but otherwise I was alone. I swallowed, covering my wrapped-chest with my blanket just as Cassandra poked her head in.

“It is time to begin our next journey,” she said, matter-of-factly.

I nodded, my gaze meeting hers in all seriousness. “Yes,” I said. “It is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dissection of "Fenedhis lasa" is all thanks to fenxshiral. Go check him out!
> 
>  _Falon_ : friend
> 
>  _Banal_ : no
> 
>  _Da'falon_ : little friend


	6. The Next Path

We briefly met with a few scouts before heading back to Dennet’s home. All of the sites for towers had been scouted, and very basic construction begun. We informed the sagely horsemaster of our successes, and convinced him to join the Inquisition. It hadn’t taken much—he clearly desired the adventure, the chance to help all of Thedas. We decided to spend one more day in the Hinterlands; I was determined to help recruit Whittle, whom Corporal Vale had identified as needing supplies for the refugees. With our new faster, more surefooted (and better trained) mounts, we covered distance quickly and easily. We had to outrun several bears, fight templars and apostates, and close a few fade rifts before the day was done. We came across the trampled body of a young woman. She had a note on her, addressed to her lover, Berand. With a heavy heart, I tucked this letter into my saddle; we would deliver it, if we could.

As if we needed _more_ to do, we stumbled across a cult that had hidden itself away in the hills of the north. After closing a Fade rift they had been worshipping, and killing the accompanying demons, we were able to recruit them to our cause. When asked what I wanted them to focus on doing, there was no doubt in my mind. Help the refugees; give as much aid as they could. The cult leader agreed readily. Here we found Berand, and I was able to deliver him the news of the loss of his love, and her final letter. He was distraught, but willing to turn his pain into dedication and aid our effort to help others, like his fallen love. As we were leaving, I paused, frowning.

“Everything all right, Sun-Blossom?”

I smiled at Varric, my brows still drawn together. “Yes, I just…wait here; I’ll be right back.”

Ignoring the puzzled looks I received, I sprinted back into the keep and ran up a flight of stairs on the left. I climbed a ladder, then another, and (somewhat winded) stopped to pant beside a young elven mage.

“Hyndel?” I asked, looking at him once I had regained my breath. He nodded, a touch confused why a panting woman was asking after him.

“Your mother—she needs her medicine. She’s having trouble breathing.”

It didn’t take long for him to get me the medicine she needed, along with a copy of how it was made. His gratitude was great as he pressed the items into my hands. I smiled at him and nodded, heading back the way I had come. When I found my companions, Cassandra impatiently handed me the reins to my mount.

“Are you ready to leave, Herald?” she asked, somewhat tersely. I couldn’t blame her—she didn’t like being excluded from things; it clearly made her nervous. I nodded, tucking the medicine and recipe into my side bag.

“I am. Sorry—there was someone here who can make a medicine a man needs for his wife back at the crossroads.”

Cassandra’s expression cleared slightly, mistrust replaced by confusion. “I hadn’t realized you had spoken to anyone about such a thing.”

I squirmed into my saddle, attempting to be as elegant as I could in front of Solas—who had been exceptionally quiet today, which unnerved me somewhat, after our flirtations yesterday.

“Ah, yes, well, it was in passing,” I lied, not able to make eye contact with our Seeker. I hadn’t spoken to the man, yet I knew beyond a doubt that he needed this medicine. “We should hurry back to the crossroads. I think we’ve found as many locations for those supply caches as possible. Whittle will want to know.”

Cassandra inclined her head, and we set out, back to the crossroads. Solas trailed behind the others, looking lost in thought, his brow smooth but his gaze…troubled. I managed (somehow) to slow my mount to fall in step beside his own. We were far enough back to not be overhead, yet close enough to catch the occasional melody from Varric as he whistled a tune merrily.

“Solas,” I began, hesitantly. He blinked slowly and turned to me, obviously distracted. “I…wanted to talk about Haven. What do you think we should tell Cullen? Should I be honest, or do you still think it best to say something about a spirit warning us…?”

It was somewhat strange—usually when we spoke, his eyes bore into my own with an intensity that both unnerved and excited me. Yet now, he seemed to be watching my mouth, and it took him a moment to process what I had said. He tore his gaze away from my countenance, staring straight ahead, his spine rigid in his saddle.

“I do not think the truth would serve you well at present, _lethallan_ ,” he said finally. “Our Commander would not be able to understand, and might mistrust you after. His experience with magic, I have garnered through our brief conversations, has not been a…positive one. While he may discount the knowledge provided by a spirit based solely on its nature, I still believe this to be a better course than complete honesty. However, _perhaps_ you need not mention a spirit. If you attest Haven’s inability to proper defensive maneuvers, I believe our Commander will be amenable to an evacuation. Whatever decision you think is best will be fine, I believe.”

I sighed and nodded, frowning as I watched Cassandra’s and Varric’s backs sway in time with the movements of their horses. “I just hate lying. And I’m not very adept at it. But we need to save as many lives as possible.”

Solas inclined his head in agreement. “Yes, that would be for the best. Mendacity, while it has its place betimes, is not something to which to aspire. Your honest spirit is refreshing in this world of deceit and half-truths.”

I gave him a small smile. “Thank you. Solas…may I ask you something?”

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye and nodded his acquiescence. For a moment, I thought he was going to make a facetious remark on the fact that I asked to ask him a question. I took a breath to steel myself and sort my thoughts before deciding, fuck it, just ask. “Do you think Fen’Harel still…exists? That he’s still present?”

His eyebrows shot up and he looked me dead in the eye. “Why do you ask?”

It was suddenly very warm and I had difficulty meeting his gaze. I cleared my throat, straightening my shoulders and stared dead ahead at the rump of Varric’s stallion. “Well, I just…I mean, maybe I…I may have—I just…” I bit my lip to stop my tirade of stuttering and took another deep breath. “Just…curious as to your thoughts. I value your opinion, and you know more of this world than do I.”

His voice was warm, almost teasing when he spoke. “And yet you have a better grasp than most I have encountered, on things many of this world have forgotten or driven from memory through war and ignorance. To answer your question,” he continued, after a brief pause, “yes; I believe he exists, in a way. An echo of what he used to be; a shadow that belongs neither here in the world of wakening, nor in the Fade with spirits to keep him company.”

“That’s not true, Solas,” I said, perhaps a touch defensively. “He belongs here. Why are you so critical, _falon_?”

His eyebrows rose in surprise, and he gazed at me appraisingly. “I did not mean to offend, _lethallan_ , but he belongs to an age whose sun set centuries past. He has no place here; his people are gone; those whom he loves sleep. None call him friend here; all speak his name as if it were a curse.”

“ _I_ am his friend,” I said passionately. I set my jaw, still staring straight ahead, trying to fight back the tears that were now blurring my vision. “I want…I want everyone to know what I do.”

“And what is that?” he asked, so quietly I almost missed it.

“That he is good. That he isn’t someone to fear; that he didn’t seal the others away in spite, but with the _best intentions_ —to help. If I have to go to every Dalish clan, _I will_.”

He laughed, and it was not a happy sound. “The Dalish are not receptive to new, or rather, _old_ ideas. I tried to bring them knowledge, and was attacked for it on numerous occasions. There is little to be done to change the minds of those too stubborn to see light.”

I set my jaw and let out a frustrated sigh, then ran my fingers through my hair, trying to abate my stress. “If only there was a way to help—Fen’Harel, I mean. The elves too, of course, but I have a feeling that helping him would be one and the same.”

“I think,” he said, somewhat more gently, “that knowing that you exist, a beacon in this world of unending darkness and witlessness, would be enough.”

I shook my head sharply. “No. It isn’t. I won’t sit passively by, sighing wistfully, while someone else suffers. I won’t. I can’t.”

I gently urged my horse faster, picking up the pace into a light cantor to catch up with Varric and Cassandra—and just in time too; Varric was mid-tale about taking down a house full of assassins singlehandedly, and Cassandra looked on the verge of murder, just to get him to stop speaking.

“How about a song?” I asked, smiling when Cassandra let out a relieved sigh.

“Yes,” the Seeker said, her jaw tight. “Thank the Maker.”

Varric grinned, winking at me. “But I was just getting to the good part.”

“How about you tell me later—over dinner, perhaps? From the beginning so I get to hear all the good bits.”

Varric heaved a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “The sacrifices I have to make.” He smiled at me. “Go for it, Blossom.”

I took a deep, steadying breath and focused ahead. I was feeling a touch melancholy, after that conversation with Solas, and that might have affected my choice in song. I couldn’t close my eyes to focus, for I was afraid of not properly guiding my mount. I was still a…mediocre horseman, at best.

“Lay down your sweet and weary head / Night is falling / You have come to journey’s end / Sleep now and dream of the ones who came before / They are calling / From across the distant shore / Why do you weep? / What are these tears upon your face? / Soon you will see / All of your fears will pass away / Safe in my arms / You’re only sleeping / What can you see on the horizon? / Why do the white gulls call? / Across the sea, a pale moon rises / The ships have come to carry you home / And all will turn to silver glass / A light on the water, all souls pass / Hope fades into the world of night / Through shadows falling / Out of memory and time / Don’t say we have come now to the end / White shores are calling / You and I will meet again / And you’ll be here in my arms / Just sleeping / What can you see on the horizon? / Why do the white gulls call? / Across the sea a pale moon rises / The ships have come to carry you home / And all will turn to silver glass / A light on the water / Grey ships pass…into the West.”

“ _Maker_ , Sun-Blossom,” Varric said, gazing up at me with misty eyes. “Don’t you know any happy songs?”

“I thought it was beautiful,” Cassandra put in, not looking at anyone, her voice a little tight. A name flashed in my mind—Galyan—then was gone. I worried my lower lip and nodded. Happy…happy…Why was it impossible to think of a single happy song when I wanted one?

“Oh!” I exclaimed, nearly jumping out of my saddle. The horse didn’t even bat an eyelash—it calmly trotted on. These mounts _were_ superior to the ones we had been using. “Defying Gravity!” I cleared my throat, set my shoulders back and, smiling, launched into the song.

The afternoon passed in a similar fashion, peppered with storytelling and song-singing. I even managed to get Varric to sing (well, melodically chant really) a tavern song he had learned in Kirkwall. I was able to wrangle Solas into conversation, asking him questions about his journeys into the Fade. He told us the story of a young Qunari baker who defied the Qun in a small way by placing a pinch of sugar at the center of every loaf she baked.

It was early evening when we reached the crossroads. While Cassandra gave Whittle the locations of all the caches we had found, I delivered the medicine to Hyndel’s father—much to his shock and gratitude. Thankfully, he was so relieved he didn’t question me overly on how I had known that he had needed it.

We spent the remaining hours of the day helping refugees by cooking, healing, or repairing damage done to homes and stores. By the time night draped her dark cloak across the sky, I was well and truly exhausted. Again, there was stew for my friends and roasted vegetables for myself. I sighed, half-heartedly eating some unseasoned tuber. Varric cast a look my way and smiled.

“If you want something with flavor, you could try the stew.”

Solas raised an auburn eyebrow as he gave his bowl a considering look. “I would not recommend this…‘flavor’ to any, let alone our Fen.”

Varric cackled, spooning up another helping. “I never claimed it was a _good_ flavor, Chuckles. But where was I? Ah, yes.” He sat back down, his bowl once again full, and leaned forward, the fire casting a golden glow to his strong, handsome features. “We had just entered the mansion. Bartrand was nowhere to be found, but his hired thugs were everywhere. I was the first to step through the door, and lucky it was me—a spring trap slammed the door behind me and locked it.

“Hawke, Fenris and Daisy were trapped on the other side, leaving Bianca and me to deal with Bartrand’s henchmen. Bianca had never sung so sweetly as she did that day—one, two, three felled by a single bolt, its aim unerring. Another ran at me, buckler aimed to slam me back, but I was able to duck below his blow and land one of my own right on the small of his back. He fell and took a bolt to the head. I spun around, just as they were closing in—ten more, ready to slice me to bits, plus three archers hanging back. I took care of them first because an archer can do more damage than a swords man more quickly from a distance. Bianca took a hearty beating when I slammed her into the gut of the nearest goon; then she pumped a bolt straight into his chest. Nine left, and six more came running down the stairs. Bam bam bam! A bolt each, and they fell, blood spraying the walls.”

Cassandra groaned, shaking her head. “This story is a fiction. You already confessed to me that Hawke and the others were there with you when you saved Bartrand from the madness of red lyrium.”

“Ah, did I say Bartrand? I meant this was when a carta faction had infiltrated and taken over the Blooming Rose,” he said, grinning. “And let me tell you—the ladies of that establishment in particular were _very_ grateful when I saved the day. They had these two dwarven girls, busty as you could wish; one was a redhead, and the other had hair as black as midnight. Twins, they told me; one of their selling points they said, but I doubt it was true. They were nothing alike if you know what I—”

“We know what you mean,” Cassandra interjected, looking disgusted. “And on that note, I am going to bed. Fen, if you do not mind, I do not feel like sleeping next to _that_ after such a tale of debauchery.”

Varric’s grin widened. “Afraid for your honor, Seeker? You’re too tall for my tastes. I like my girls soft, too, just in the hip. Gives you something to—”

Cassandra scoffed, stood, and gave me a nod as she entered the tent I had been planning on sharing with Solas. I hid my disappointment behind a large bite of potato, or rather, tried to, but it was so hot that it scalded my lip. I let out a squeak of pain, dropped my fork, caught the steaming vegetable with my bare hand, squeaked again and tossed it quickly into the fire.

“I take it back,” Varric said, laughing. “There’s not an ounce of grace in you.”

I snorted back a laugh despite the pain, blowing on my palm. “Yes, I could have told you that. I may have, in fact.”

“Here,” Solas said beside me, and he took my hand. He gingerly pulled back fingers back, lowered his face to my skin and blew ever so gently onto the burn. His breath was frosted, and it instantly soothed the burn. Once it had been cooled, he laid the barest trace of a kiss on the wound, and his touch…it healed the hurt. I blinked at him, unable to speak. My throat worked as I tried to swallow, and I could feel my cheeks growing red.

“Ah, I…um… _ma serannas_ ,” I said, after I was able to speak. He didn’t look at me or speak. He simply nodded, gathered his things and retired to the tent he would share with Varric. I watched him go, holding my hand to my chest.

“Breathe, Sun-Blossom.”

I inhaled sharply, not realizing I hadn’t been. I shook my head slowly. “I don’t…he said he wasn’t interested in me.”

Varric sighed and shook his head. He stood, slapped me on the shoulder and gave me a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know what to tell you, Blossom. I…would choose someone else, if I could.”

I looked at my hands, sitting idly in my lap. “I can’t. I don’t…I wouldn’t want to.”

“I know what you mean,” he said after a time. He smiled at me, a little sadly. He was thinking of someone. A redhead—Bianca? “It would be easier if we could stop loving when we wanted. Life would be easier. But I don’t know if it would be _better_.” He patted my shoulder then disappeared after Solas into their tent.

I sat watching the fire for a long time. I was tired, but too tightly wound to sleep. I wanted a book or something—anything to distract myself and keep from thinking about Solas and his mixed signals. Anything…

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I knew I hadn’t gone into my tent; I was asleep by the fire. I knew I was asleep because the Fade had a certain…feel to it. I had no idea where I was—a small hut? But the walls looked like living wood…inside a tree? It was definitely a room; there was a window, drawn with curtains; a table was covered with books, papers, quills and spilled ink. The chair looked plush, old but comfortable. The walls, save for a few spaces, were covered with shelving for more books. The script was mostly foreign to me, though I recognized the runes of some. Where there was no shelving, fresco decorated the space—beautiful colors and geometric shapes telling scenes out of history. Candles burned on various holders, or were set straight on the floor in clusters, casting scant yellow light. In the corner, across from the window was a pile of furs, blankets and pillows. There was no door out. This place…it smelled like Fen’Harel. Like Solas, but stronger—muskier. I leaned against the rough-hewn desk, looking at the papers for want of something to do. They were covered in script I didn’t know. I sighed, and walked to the window. I pulled the curtains and looked out into a forest. In the distance, through a smattering of trees, I thought I could see glowing structures—crystalline and pure—shining as they spired up towards the sky, out of sight.

“I did not think you would ever come,” a voice, raspy and low, said from behind me. I smiled, letting the curtains fall.

“I had a hard time relaxing tonight.” I turned and faced him. He was bare chested, wearing what might have been velvet pants, a material so rich and dark they seemed to absorb the light cast upon them from the candles—to drink it in. He wore no shoes, but his circlet of bone still graced his brow. It shone bright against the darkness that shadowed his face and hid his features. I leaned back against the windowsill, watching him as he began to stalk towards me, his body and movements fluid and sure, a predator showing caution.

“Why do you hide your face?”

His step faltered, then continued. He stopped a foot or so away from me, his head cocked to the side. “Perhaps I do not want to terrify you.”

A non-answer. I shook my head and decided to ask something else. “Did Andruil really try to force you into having sex with her for a year?”

He straightened his shoulders, head cocking to the other side. “Why…why do you ask?”

I ran my hand through my hair, tugging on it a little. “I know so little about you—what you’re really like, what really happened to you. Plus,” I smiled a little, “I want to know if she is completely despicable or just somewhat unstable.”

“While she did attempt to… _urge_ me, shall we say, into her bed, she knew she would never be truly able to force me. All the same,” he said, and his smile lit the darkness, “I did not stay to test that idea. When I saw my chance to flee, I took it.”

“Saw,” I said, shaking my head. “More like created it, if the myth is to be believed.”

He reached out, his thumb running along the length of my jaw. “I am a trickster, _da’falon_. It is my nature to create my own luck, for luck will not exist for me otherwise.”

I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes. I felt so touch-starved, and not just for sex. I stepped closer to him, closing the distance between us. I wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face against his chest, the locks of hair that fell there. “You are perfection,” I whispered. “And I would give you the world, if I could.”

“I do not desire such a thing,” he replied, tilting my chin up gently to gaze into my eyes.

“What do you desire?” I asked, my breath hitching at the lust and longing and need I saw in him.

“You do not know?” There was his smile again, playful, teasing.

I buried my face in his hair once more, hiding my frown. “More than that. More than my body. What do you _want_? What would make you happy?”

His fingers were running through my hair and it felt so good. His nails, trimmed but firm, ran across my scalp and sent shivers down my skin. “Happiness is not something that is meant for me. It is for others. I would be content to…fix the things I have destroyed, to recover what was lost by my hand.”

“ _Horse shit_ ,” I said vehemently. I pulled back, but didn’t release my hold on his waist. “You deserve to be happy. It is possible. You just have to allow yourself. And this is _not your fault, vhenan_. You did what you had to do. You could not predict the future—you could not predict how awful humans would be; how the elves would lose themselves. That isn’t your fault. Besides—if you hadn’t sealed them all away, things might very well _be worse_.” I squeezed him, my eyes searching his. “You could have saved us all from complete annihilation. You cannot know, so why? Why do you assume the worst? Why do you take so much onto your shoulders, and harbor so much pain in your eyes?” He said nothing, or maybe I just didn’t let him speak because when I get started on a rant, it’s hard to stop.

“You and Solas!” I continued, exasperated. I released him and walked back to the window. I pushed the heavy fabric of the curtain aside and stared out, glaring at the night. “You both have the sorrow of the entire world in your eyes. It _breaks my heart_ ,” I said fervently, fighting back tears. “Why is it so hard for you to be happy? Why won’t you _let_ yourself be happy?” This was positively absurd; I didn’t know this being well enough to say for certain whether he was impeding his own happiness, and yet…that feeling that he was, that he could have everything if he so chose, was so strong that I knew it was true, the same way I had known that that man at the crossroads had needed medicine for his wife.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” he said softly, more to himself, I thought, than to me. “I had thought you…I had thought that I would help, if I came to you. I thought you _needed_ me,” he said, his voice heavy, soft and raspy. “I had thought that coming to you would alleviate your suffering. I see that I was mistaken.”

I spun around, my eyes wide. His back was to me now, and I could tell that if I didn’t act now, he was going to disappear—and might not _reappear_. I had pushed too hard. I quickly walked to him, and folded him from behind in a hug. I pressed my face against his back, my eyes closed tight.

“You _did_ help—you still do. I—” I stopped talking abruptly. My entire body ran cold and I felt the world swim. My arms fell to my sides, dead weight. “I…you came that night when I asked for a lover,” I said numbly. “You gave me what I wanted, what I said I needed.” I took a few steps back, feeling my legs begin to give. I sat on the sill of the window, staring, unseeing, at the floor. “By all the powers…” My eyes were watering, but it felt somehow…distant. “You didn’t want _me_. You…you were just there to help me. I took advantage of you. I…” but then my throat was too tight to speak and I was crying in earnest. Oh, I had taken clear advantage of him! He had appeared because it was what I needed to recover from the catastrophic events of that day—to erase the blood and horror and gore from my mind. To soothe me. Not…how could he have wanted me? He didn’t know me—I should have seen this, but I was too clouded by what _I_ had wanted to think clearly.

“ _Din_!” He said the word so violently, so vehemently, that I was startled out of the drowning sorrow and guilt that was beginning to close in around me. Too quick to see his movements, he was suddenly in front of me, kneeling down at my feet. He took my face into his hands, his palms warm and dry on my cheeks. “Do not think for a _moment_ that I came to you out of anything but selfish desire. You were the one who was emotionally vulnerable, and _I_ am the one who used that to _my_ benefit. It had been so long since anyone has made me feel what _you_ make me feel. There are none who understand me, none but you. It was my own weakness that drove me to you—my own weakness and need. I needed to touch you. I needed to be touched. I came to you, disguised,” he said, gesturing at the darkness that cloaked his face, “and you still accepted me. I do nothing but confuse and hurt you; do not ever blame yourself for my pain. I thought nothing could alleviate it, that there was nothing left for this world. You have shown me that I was wrong. That this world _is_ worth changing.”

I stared at him, unsure what to say. I swallowed, and slid down from the windowsill to sit on the floor, pressed against him. I cupped his cheeks as he had done to me moments before and pressed my forehead to his own. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed my eyes tightly. “I will proclaim your name in stars,” I whispered. “I will show the world your beauty. You do not have to face your struggle alone.” My voice was strained in the dark. “ _Sulenan mar melin su u’vunen._ ”

He moved faster than a stroke of lightning. His arms were around me, pulling me hard against his chest; his mouth was on mine and he was groaning against me, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have said I tasted salt from _his_ tears in our kiss. He was biting my lip gently, his knee spreading my legs apart as his hands slid down my back, tugging at my shirt and grabbing my bottom, seemingly all at once. I gasped and suddenly, was blinking up at Cassandra’s somewhat concerned face.

“Herald?” she asked softly, her hand warm and rough on my shoulder. “When you did not come to our tent, I worried. Are you…” she paused, looking somewhat uncomfortable, and I realized I must have been crying in my sleep. I sniffed and rubbed at my eyes as she continued, “Are you all right? Do you desire to…to talk?”

It was such a thoughtful gesture, one she was clearly hesitant to make, that I couldn’t even muster an ounce of annoyance at being pulled away from…well… _that_ —whatever it was. I shook my head, giving Cass a watery smile as I wiped the last of the tears from my cheek. “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you, Cassandra,” I said, after a moment. “I mean it. I couldn’t ask for a more compassionate companion.”

She looked so taken aback that I almost laughed. She was struggling for an apt response, so I took the burden off of her by standing and clasping her shoulder. “Let’s get back to bed.”

“Is everything well?” Solas’ voice surprised me. I glanced over to where he was, his head poking out of his tent. “Has something happened?” His voice was thick, as if he had been pulled from deep sleep—we had clearly woken him with our chatting.

I shook my head quickly, smiling at his concern. I was surrounded by such wonderful people. What had I done to deserve this? “Everything is fine. I just accidentally fell asleep by the fire and Cassandra was coming to see if I was okay.”

“Ah,” he said, beginning to retreat back into his tent. “ _Atisha ashir_.”

I watched him disappear, my heart squeezing. Everything was…confusing. I wanted him more than I wanted anything else. And yet… _Fen’Harel_ …I must have been staring after him for quite some time because Cassandra cleared her throat to get my attention. I blinked over at her, my eyebrows raised.

“I am going back to bed. If you would like to continue to stare at the tent, please feel free, but do try to be quiet when you decide to join me.”

I was very glad my back was to the dying fire, so that the darkness hid my blush. “I’m coming; I’m coming.”

 

**~**

 

Morning found me somewhat unrested and unable to recall if I had traveled back into the Fade. At least I didn’t need to be entirely focused today—we were just heading back to Haven. I had the nagging feeling that I should have been going to Redcliffe, mixed with some dread about the mages, but I ignored it. I needed to get back to Haven to talk to Cullen about relocating the civilians and refugees flooding to a place that was going to be destroyed. Varric and Solas alternated telling tales—Varric’s mostly focused on Hawke (whom I was beginning to feel I knew intimately), and Solas acquiescing to my incessant prodding about the Fade.

“—and then Isabela stepped over the body of the Ox-man, _holding the tome_. I’d never been happier to see a book in my life, and that includes the first time I got published.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Talk about the nick of time. How did the Arishok take it? Did he agree to let bygones be bygones?”

“Oh, he would have—for the low, low price of one Rivaini to go with that religious text. Needless to say, Hawke wasn’t sold on that particular idea. They dueled for her, and let me tell you, that was a battle I hope I never have to see the like of again. Now, don’t doubt my faith in Hawke, but if you had seen how _huge_ the Arishok was, you’d understand my concern. There was a moment when Hawke was skewered on that giant’s sword, and I knew that it was all over and my best friend was going to be dead. I should have known—Hawke isn’t that easy to kill.” He launched into a blow by blow of the battle, detailing every hit, every tense moment, and had me on the edge of my saddle, so to speak. I was so enthralled that I didn’t notice Cassandra stopping to set up camp.

“—and then the Arishok fell, his proud brow now broken and confused, and—hey, Sun-Blossom, where do you think you’re going?”

I jolted, blinking in surprise as I realized everyone else had stopped. I managed to slow my mount and, after some painful maneuvering, got him turned around. As we set up for the night, Varric finished telling us about the battle with the Arishok. Cassandra doled out our meagre supper, and Solas lit a fire with a small flick of his wrist. It glowed blue in the growing dark. I nestled some root vegetables near the flame, but not too close, and sat back, listening to Varric. By the time my vegetables were done cooking, everyone had finished eating. Varric excused himself to answer the ‘call of nature,’ and Cassandra wanted to refill our water skins.

“I will assist you,” Solas said to Cass, standing. The two disappeared into the night, leaving me alone to eat in silence. At least the fire crackled merrily enough. The sound of it was so soothing that it almost put me into a relaxed trance as I ate my dinner. I was halfway through my last carrot when I, well, _felt_ it. It was hard to describe, but one moment I was alone, contentedly eating, and the next my skin was tingling (not unpleasantly) and I knew something was happening. I was on my feet in seconds, the vegetables forgotten in the ash. Despite the dark, I could see quite well. There! I saw movement in the distance. A strange sensation washed over me: a mixture of sorrow, longing and _hunger_. I had to help. I _had_ to. I took off, my feet making next to no sound on the soft earth.

It was Solas who found me huddled next to the patch of embrium. I hadn’t heard him approach, but I heard his sharp intake of breath when he saw me.

“ _Lethallan_ ,” he said, obviously relieved. He approached me slowly. “Are you well? When Cassandra and I returned, we saw your food scattered, half-eaten, and you nowhere to be seen. We—I—worried.”

I half-turned, my arms full, unable to hide the smile that stretched my mouth. “Softly, Solas,” I whispered, looking down. “She’s sleeping.”

He stopped cold, his eyes wide. He inhaled sharply again, but quickly his expression smoothed back into nonchalance. “Is that a wolf cub?”

I grinned, looking down at the mass of dark charcoal fur in my arms. “Barely. I’d say she’s at least eight months. I can barely hold her. But she’s so skinny—she’s been alone for long enough to lose weight.”

He approached me carefully, and squatted beside me. He cocked his head to the side, looking at the pup. Gingerly, he scratched behind her ears. She sighed softly, still sleeping, and nuzzled closer into the crook of my arm.

“Perhaps there is a pack who will adopt her nearby,” he suggested, looking around us at the night-darkened forest. My spine grew stiff at the very thought.

“You don’t understand,” I said, keeping my voice low and gentle. “I _felt_ her. I could hear her suffering, though it was silent. She cried like a puppy when she saw me, and gave me her belly. She knew me as I know her. I won’t give her up. Besides—all the wolves we’ve seen have been driven mad by the chaos of the torn veil. I will not abandon her.” I closed my eyes and gently nuzzled the top of her head. She opened her eyes, blue and clear as a cloudless sky, and locked gazes with me. She was young, too young to have lost so much. I tried to explain as much to Solas. I knew her. She had lost her family to a band of freemen passing through the Hinterlands and heading towards the Dales. They had killed her mother for fur, her siblings for sport. She had survived because she had been swifter than the others; she had outrun everyone. It had not been an act of fear, for she was not afraid to die. It had been a vow. She recalled the scent of the man who had shot her mother between the eyes with a bolt from a crossbow. She would not forget it. She would find him. She would make certain he did not take family away from anyone ever again, once she was large enough. Once she was strong enough.

Solas stared at me, his expression solemn. He looked away and stood after several moments of silence. “We should return to camp. The others will be concerned at your prolonged absence.”

I nodded, standing and carefully holding the pup to my chest. As we walked, a question occurred to me. “Solas,” I began, frowning, “is it true that elves used to have wolf companions?”

“Yes,” he said, after a time. “I saw as much in the Fade, wolves and elves walking side by side, living and dying together. They formed bonds, such as you have described.” He looked at me finally, curious. “What is her name?”

I laughed, wrinkling my nose. “I think it’s Fen,” I said honestly. “I think it was her name that I took when I named myself.”

I saw him swallow, but he said nothing more. We returned to camp, and Varric cursed.

“Maker, Blossom. I thought we had lost you. You remind me of Daisy more and more. You’d get lost in the hall from your bedroom to your kitchen.”

I grinned at him and proudly nodded down to Fen. “I felt this little one all alone in the woods. She needed help. She’s going to be joining us—a new member of the Inquisition.”

Varric peered at the sleepy face resting contentedly on my arm. Big blue eyes gazed up at him, and she sighed lightly, clearly ready to be done with introductions and to go back to sleep. I had managed to catch a fennec for her before Solas had found me, with the aid of a freezing spell, knowing that I couldn’t give her the dried jerky that my friends were eating; cooked meat could be disastrous to the health of a young wolf. They needed raw meat to help their stomachs develop, and to help them grow. So, she was full for the first time in days, relaxed and content in the knowledge that I was going to protect her from now forward.

“She’s awfully cute now, Sun-Blossom, but wait a few months. Those paws promise she’s not going to stay little for long.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Not that she’s all that little now. Skin and bone, yes, but she’s probably half-grown.”

I nodded, awkwardly shifting her weight to give some relief to my arms. I tried to set her down on my bedroll, but she let out a soft whine. So I managed to sit and cradle her at the same time.

“That…is a wolf,” Cassandra said, staring at me as if I had gone mad.

I nodded, looking down at Fen. “Yes,” I said. “She is. She won’t hurt you, I promise. She’s well-behaved. But I’m not leaving her. She’s coming with us.”

Our Seeker huffed softly, shaking her head as she climbed into her bedroll. “Make sure it stays well-behaved. And quiet. It will be difficult enough to convince the world that you are the Herald of Andraste—adding a wolf may make it…harder.”

“That’s fine,” I said, somewhat testily, “seeing as I’ve said countless times now that I’m _not the Herald of Andraste_.”

“Good _night_ , Fen,” Cassandra replied, cutting off further debate.

“ _Fenedhis_ ,” I muttered under my breath, lifting up the blankets from my bedroll. Fen crawled in without further prompting, and I after her. It was a tight fit, but we made it work, with her nose pressing gently to the crook of my arm, her weight a heavy warmth across my legs.

“This just gets weirder and weirder,” Varric mumbled to himself as he too climbed into his bedding. “Must be an elf thing; no human or dwarf would sleep with a wolf.”

No one seemed to understand why that made me laugh so hard.

 

**~**

 

This time, the Fade was a wild wood, overgrown with weeping trees and tall grass. Fen’Harel was sitting in the center of a clearing, the silken grass grazing his shoulders. I couldn’t quite tell, but I thought his eyes were closed in a meditation. I stood at the edge of the clearing, watching him. His hair was thick, impossibly soft, and I really wanted to run to him and let my fingers sink into it. I wanted to touch him, to breathe in the scent of his skin. I could remember _perfectly_ how it felt to hold him inside of me, to feel his swollen arousal twitch deep within me as he spilled himself.

A low rumble broke my chain of thought. It had come from him. I blinked, a little startled to find that he was staring at me with an intensity that made me quiver.

“Your thoughts are so loud,” he said, standing in one fluid motion. “And I had promised myself that I wasn’t going to immediately ravish you.”

My breath left my lungs in a gust. “Why would you do a silly thing like that?” I asked, feeling my excitement heighten as he began to stalk towards me with the silken grace of a hunter. I’m sure that’s how he saw himself; little did he know how ardently I sought _him_. Or perhaps he was very much aware. His teeth flashing in a smile told me he might be.

“You had mentioned a desire to ‘get to know’ me,” he murmured once he reached me. His hand came up and cupped the side of my neck, his thumb gently rubbing up and down my erratic pulse. His breath touched the soft skin behind my ear as he dipped his head down to whisper into it. “I assumed you did not mean physically.”

“Well, that isn’t helping,” I said, managing not to gasp at the sensation of his lips brushing the shell of my ear. Heat was spreading up from my sex outwards, and I wanted nothing more than to fling him onto the ground and ride him into the sunset. Not that there _was_ a sunset, mind, but the sentiment stood.

“Then ask away,” he said, stepping back and releasing his hold on me. “I will answer what I can.”

I sputtered, blinking at the loss of him. I swallowed, trying to clear my mind of the delicious scent of his body. What a tease! He walked back to where he had been sitting before and returned to his place, the whites of his eyes twinkling playfully at me. I made myself focus; I was more than a simple beast. My desires did not control me—I controlled them.

So I sat down several feet away from him, not wanting to test my luck. It was still difficult to focus, but easier without him touching me. “Okay,” I began, thinking. I wanted to ask so many things—but I didn’t want to cause him pain. And while I was curious to know if, say, Andruil had really begun the Blight, that wasn’t about _him_ ; nor did I think that talking about the other ‘gods’ would make him happy. “Tell me about your happiest memory.”

“Seeing your face, the absolute desire and abandon there, as you climaxed beneath me for the first time. Next?”

I turned a brilliant shade of red, I was sure, and suddenly found it hard to speak. “I mean out of _all_ of your memories, not just recently.”

“As do I. You have no idea how much joy you have brought me in the short amount of time I have known you. To understand, you would need to comprehend what I have lost, what the world has lost, and I do not think either of us desire to discuss that. Next?”

It was hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. I stared at my hands as they folded themselves in my lap, unsure how to continue the conversation now.

“Perhaps I may ask one of you,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. I heard rustling and I saw him crawling towards me through the grass, his eyes focused on me. My heart rate trebled. He stopped mere inches from, so close that I could feel his breath. “Are you sure you are from another realm and not another time? Your grasp of Elvhen is more concrete than any elf remaining; you focus magic in such a way that I have not seen since my peers roamed Thedas—since Thedas was known by another name; you have bonded with a wolf in such a way that has not existed in century upon century. You are taller than other elves, and the energy inside of you is more powerful than any living mage.”

I laughed in surprise, shaking my head. “No, I’m not an Ancient Elf. I’m really from another realm. Mythal chose me. That’s all I can say. And I’m not more powerful than any mage—you haven’t met Solas.”

“Ah,” he said, sinking back an inch to relax on his haunches. “The one whose name you scream when I am inside—”

“ _Okay_ ,” I said quickly, blushing furiously. “That’s enough of that. I’m pretty sure his wasn’t the only name I was screaming, anyway.”

“No,” he said proudly, and I could hear the smirk in his voice, “it wasn’t.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” I asked softly, glancing up at him through lowered eyelashes, afraid to look at him dead-on. “That I…that I feel that way about him—about you _both_?”

“ _Da’falon_ ,” he said gently, and there was a note of…was it sorrow in his voice? “I would change nothing about our situation but that I cannot be with you physically.”

I swallowed, still unable to look at him. I could feel the heat from his skin burning into mine. I wanted to throw my arms around him, to drive that note of sorrow from him forever. “How did you find me?”

He dipped his head and laid a kiss on my shoulder—which I only now realized was bare, that was how greatly he had distracted me. I noticed I was wearing some sort of dress made mostly of gauze, though the bodice was heavy cotton covered with thick lace. It was the most beautiful color, and complimented my skin and hair perfectly. I looked at him when he pulled back. Clearly he had no intention of answering my question. He smiled when he caught my eye, my eyebrows raised.

“Did you do this?” I asked, gesturing at the dress.

He chuckled softly, crawling closer to me, one arm sliding across me as he planted a kiss on the pulse in my throat. “Perhaps I wanted you in something…loose.”

It was my turn to laugh. I ran my fingers through his locks, savoring how soft they were—how heavy and warm. I parted my legs, sliding the dress up an inch or two, experimenting with how much give I had. “Well, I suppose it _is_ that.” He said nothing. I looked up and caught him gazing at my legs with a focus that was truly admirable. I smiled to myself, sliding the dress up another inch. His eyes moved with the hem of my skirts. It felt…powerful. He had teased me earlier; it was only fair to repay the turn. I crossed my ankles, slid my legs together gently, and pulled up the hem until it was over half-way up my thighs. Then I stopped and flicked the skirts down to my ankles.

“Very loose!” I chimed merrily, laughing internally at the surprise that was written in every inch of his body language. Consternation filled his eyes and he leaned forward, his breath skimming the length of my neck, making me shiver. My skin prickled at the feel of his tongue as he tasted the cord of my throat.

“Loose,” he agreed huskily, one hand coming up to cup my left breast. “And so very thin.” His voice in my ear, breath hot and sweet, made me gasp—but not like the way his thumb running over the bud of my nipple did. I swallowed hard, trying to think past the throbbing desire building between my legs.

“No fair,” I said, my voice breathy with lust. “I’m so exposed—you’ve got trousers.”

“Mmm,” he murmured against my neck, his teeth gently nipping me as his hand squeezed my breast. “Easily remedied,” he said into my skin, his tongue flicking me gently. I leaned my head to the side, giving him more access. His mouth closed over my pulse, and he pulled the smallest bite of flesh into his mouth, suckling it gently. His teeth _just_ grazed me, and liquid trickled between my thighs. It was too much—and it wasn’t fair. I wanted to drive him as absolutely crazy as he drove me.

Gingerly, so as to not hurt myself, I pulled away from him and tugged his hand away from my chest. His breathing was a little hoarse, and I could see desire growing between his legs—but it wasn’t enough. I wanted him out of control.

“ _Da’falon_ —?” he began, but I cut him off by gripping his shoulder and pushing him firmly down.

“Lie down on your back,” I commanded, proud that my voice didn’t quaver at all. “And take your pants _off_.”

His white teeth flashed in a smile in the dark, but he did as I had bid. Once his pants were gone, his erection was free to…to _stare_ at me. I hadn’t really seen it before—we had been so hurried before, and he had been on top of me. I could tell it wasn’t at full capacity, but it was _certainly_ happy to be there. I pulled the hem of my dress up slightly, freeing my legs, but didn’t take it off, much to his disappointment. Though, the small sulking noise he had made quickly turned into a sharp gasp when I slid over his erection, the soft fabric of my gown dragging across it. I settled just above his waist, bent down and began work on a hickey all my own. The skin of his throat tasted _good_ ; somewhat salty, but mostly it just tasted like him—musk, pine and that very male scent I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I sucked hard, pulling his skin into my mouth until he groaned. I released him, gently bit the mark I had made and blew on it, cooling it as Solas had cooled my burn. He gasped and it must have excited him because I could suddenly feel his erection grow, brushing now against my vulva. I smiled at his reaction, then ran my tongue over the cooled-skin, reveling in the goosebumps that broke out in response.

His breathing was ragged and heavy as I kissed my way down his collarbone, across his chest and down the flat, hard plane of his stomach. His muscles jerked the lower I got, especially when I moved over his swollen erection, my stomach pushing it gently down. One of his hands buried into my hair and gripped it tightly, trying to urge me down when I lingered at his navel, tasting it.

“ _Da’falon_ ,” he gasped, his hips straining upwards, every line of muscle in his body taut. “You are being unkind.”

“I’ll be nice,” I said between kisses. I ran my tongue lightly down the cuts in his hips, across the expanse of flat belly, until I finally came to his growing desire. His breathing was erratic now as I gently blew on the head of his penis. His hand in my hair tightened, and I saw the smallest bead of moisture run down the length of him. Unable to stop myself, I caught it with my tongue and traced it back to its source. He cursed, releasing my hair in favor of grasping at the grass surrounding us. My tongue traced the indent of his frenulum, swirled just barely over the tip, then I pulled away. He gasped, his eyes wide and wild as he looked down at me.

I smiled at him sweetly over the tip of his erection, then ever so gently, wrapped my fingers around its base. Creators, but he was long and wide. It was almost intimidating, but I was so _very_ up to the challenged. I gave him a slow squeeze, and his hips responded by lifting off the ground. I flattened my tongue against the side of his erection and gave him a long lick, from base to top, before closing my lips around his tip. I swirled my tongue over his head and began to suck him, my fingers sliding up and down his shaft as I did so. His breathing was loud and harsh in the stillness of the Fade, broken only by the sound of my mouth on him, of my hand pumping him up and down.

Once he was making small, inarticulate groans of desire, I pulled back and let him escape from my mouth with a small _pop_. My fingers squeezed his base, not letting him go. Instead, I sat up, scooting forward until I was straddling his hips, one of my hands holding him, the other holding my dress out of the way. I was so wet with desire; it was easy to guide him into me. I worked the tip in, holding my breath as I swirled my hips, trying to urge him further down. He was cursing again, and I lost my grip briefly and he popped out of me. I made a small, frantic noise and quickly remedied the situation. Once he was back in, I _very_ carefully began to lower myself, only moving my hips when I needed to adjust the angle. Once he was fully inside of me and I was resting, well, not _comfortably_ , but _completely_ against his hips, I let my dress fall back into place. He had wanted me in a dress; he was going to get me in a dress.

His hands found my hips as I leaned forward, drawing myself up and squeezing tightly before sliding back down. Oh, the angle was so intense! It was almost sharp, and just _almost_ too much. But not _quite_. He gasped, his spine arching beneath me, and then he was trying to pull my dress up. I stilled his hands, tugging it back down as I set a slow, languorous pace. As I moved up, I squeezed around him, reveling in the way he filled me completely. When I moved back down, I did my best to relax my muscles—he was so thick, it took some work—but I was aroused and ready and so very wet. I may have pushed him over the edge when I leaned forward, my arms supporting me on either side of his shoulders, my lace-clad breasts brushing lightly against his chest, and bit the side of his neck, right atop the mark I had left.

His fingers dug into my hips and suddenly I found myself held in place. Dreamily, the surprise taking a moment to fight through the lust, I blinked down at him. He growled and, without much warning other than a sharp intake of breath, he was pushing up into me with blinding speed. I gasped, my arms nearly giving way as he picked up a fast, erratic pace. I made a small sound of acquiescence, rolling my hips in his tight grip as he pushed and pulled himself in and out of me.

“ _Boras_ ,” he commanded, his erection twitching inside of me. He was close—so close I could feel the strain in every single muscle of his body.

“ _Ma_ _halani_ ,” I begged, trying to press down, to roll my hips to better stimulate myself. He released my hips in favor of wrapping an arm tightly around me, drawing me hard against his chest, my breasts a cushion between us. This angle was so much _more_ —he was hitting so very deep as he pounded into me. I nearly screamed, my hips reacting in time with his own. And then one of his hands was snaking between us and his thumb somehow found my clit and began to rub it—gently at first, building the pressure, then faster and faster, until I was screaming to the darkness around us, my body clenching hard around him. Our bodies worked together, shaking and rocking and arching, even as my orgasm pushed him into his own. He gasped, bit down on my shoulder and shoved himself so deep inside of me that I knew that if this had not been the Fade, I might have been sore tomorrow. I could feel the heat from his seed spreading inside of me and it had me shaking with aftershocks, my arms completely unable to support me now.

He held me, both of us straining to slow our breathing, bodies pressed together. We stayed that way, silently gripping each other, for what could have been hours. I didn’t want to move—I wanted to continue to hold him inside myself, to stay in his arms and never leave. I closed my eyes, burying my face into the crook of his neck. I breathed in his scent, and kissed the mark on his throat. He shivered in response, stirring beneath me. He gingerly rolled me onto my side, but didn’t let his arms release me. He threw a leg over my hips, drawing me closer, his eyes smiling into my own.

“It will soon be time to awaken,” he said gently, and then he laid a kiss on my brow. He trailed kisses down the side of my face, ending at the corner of my mouth. At the downward turn of my mouth, he cocked his head. “What is wrong?”

“I _like_ this…this intimacy. I like being close—not just for sex, but because it _feels_ good to be close. I miss touching you during the day. I miss being touched.”

I saw his throat work. He so tenderly gripped the back of my head and drew me closer. He kissed me, hard, on the forehead, then rested his own against mine. “I wish I could give you more, _da’falon_.”

I sighed, wrapping my own arms around him. “Me too, as selfish as that is. I—”

He kissed me, stopping my words. I pressed into him, my mouth happily responding to his own. When he pulled back, I made a small noise of protest that had him smiling.

“It is not selfish, no more than my desire to be by your side. But this is all I can offer. I understand if that is not enough for you,” he said, the smile slipping.

I let out a surprised, somewhat anguished laugh. Shaking my head, I buried my face into his chest, taking in his scent again. “You are everything I could ask for. More than I had ever hoped for. I will take whatever I can from you.”

His arms around me tightened and I could feel his breath on my ear as his head dipped towards my own. “I know. And I am so sorry for that— _ir abelas, da’falon_.”

 

**~**

 

I woke to a cold, wet nose pushing at my cheek. Fen was awake, probably because Cassandra was up and packing. Fen sat patiently as I rolled up my own bedding, and tied it to my horse. Varric was still sleeping, and Solas was just now stirring—stirring was, perhaps, the incorrect word; one moment he was asleep, and the next his eyes were open and he was sitting. He had such a handsome face that it was hard for me to focus on the task at hand.

“I do not understand,” the Seeker said, frowning as she eyed Fen. “It is young, yes, but it is definitely large and old enough to hunt for itself.”

I paused mid-tie of my bedding to the back of my saddle. I looked at Fen as she sat calmly, gazing up at me with large eyes the color of the bluest sky. I went back to work with perhaps more determination than my task required. “She’s missing a paw. It got caught in a bear trap. I healed the wound when I found her. To be honest…I wasn’t sure she was going to survive when I first came upon her.”

Cassandra straightened in surprise. She nodded, looking at Fen perhaps with more respect than before. “She is going to be a strong companion to have survived on her own.”

When Solas stood and began to roll his bedding, Fen’s ears perked. She watched him with the same intensity that I felt. Trying not to blush, I bit back a smile. We really _were_ connected. He stopped to scratch her behind her ears, and she let out the softest _woof_ of approval.

It took some effort to get Varric up—which was unusual given that _I_ was normally the last one awake. Perhaps I was adjusting? Huzzah!

Solas was the one who helped me with Fen. Once I was settled into the saddle, she let him pick her up with minimal whining. He handed her to me, carefully setting her on my lap. It may have been my imagination, or wishful thinking, but I could have _sworn_ that his hand lingered a moment on my thigh. My breathing hitched slightly, but thankfully, he moved on, unnoticing of how I reacted to his very proximity.

The day passed uneventfully. The air got colder the higher into the mountains we ascended—and these steeds did indeed travel much more quickly than our old ones. Master Dennet was worth every moment of labor we had undergone to acquire his good graces.

I thought Varric must have had poor dreams the previous night because getting him to converse was difficult. Eventually, he smiled at me a little sadly and told me he didn’t feel like talking. I stopped asking after Hawke, and resigned myself to silence. That night, it took a little extra time to settle in for the eve for the sole reason that I had to hunt for Fen. Varric helped, and proved to be much more adept than I at catching fennec. Fen ate happily, and afterwards, limped over to the blonde dwarf and sat down next to him, placing her chin on her crossed legs.

“You made a friend,” I said with a grin.

Varric snorted, eyeing the pup as he finished up his slice of bread. “She just knows who fed her, that’s all.”

“Yes, and she’s grateful,” I replied. He grunted, but I could see a smile curving his lips.

Once we made it to bed, I laid there on the relatively hard ground, staring up at the tree branches above me. I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t stop wondering how I was going to approach Cullen with the idea of clearing out the non-essential personnel of Haven. Would he fight me? Would he think me crazy—or worse—would he begin to wonder if I was an abomination? He had so much negative experience with magic and mages; it made me…hesitant to bring this up. But I had to, to save as many lives as possible.

I would have tossed and turned all night, but Fen kept me pinned in one position. I didn’t sleep a wink, and when we rose the next morning, my exhaustion was readily apparent.

“Are you well, _lethallan_?”

I blinked slowly at Solas as he hefted Fen up onto my lap. I wrapped my arms tiredly around the cub, and managed to nod. “Just…tired.”

“It’s the travel,” Varric said, nodding. “It catches up to everyone.”

“I think it is more the fact that she did not sleep even a moment this night past,” Solas countered, eyeing the dwarf as he slid onto his own saddle. “Perhaps our pace has been too fast—we shall reach Haven by the afternoon; perhaps we may slow our journey, so that Fen may rest?”

Cassandra shook her head, vetoing that idea instantly. “No, we can brook no delay. Herald, would you care for me to take your reins?”

I thought about that for a moment before I shook my head. “No; I think it will help me wake up if I have to focus.”

“ _Lethallan_ …”

I smiled over at the hedge-mage. “It’s all right, Solas. I’ll manage _one_ more day.”

“You did not sleep at all. It is not a weakness to need assistance.”

I huffed slightly, my nerves a little short—mostly due to exhaustion, but also a healthy dose of frustration. I was already so used to Fen’Harel’s visits, that missing last night was…well, somewhat maddening. “And how do you know I did not sleep _at all_?”

His eyebrows rose. He regarded me seriously a moment, then responded with a question of his own. “ _Did_ you?”

I made a face. “…No.”

His lips twitched slightly and he shook his head. “If you feel drowsy, tell us. We will guide your mount. I’m sure Varric could be persuaded to hold Fen.”

“I can’t believe you’re naming the wolf, ‘Wolf,’” Varric said, snorting as we began our journey. “Especially considering that that’s what you want us to call _you_.”

I sighed, looking down at the wolf in my arms. She had fallen back asleep, snuggled tightly in my lap. “It’s _her_ name. I’m just…borrowing it. Until I can remember my own.”

“Yeah, but that may get confusing eventually—especially for her. Every time we try to talk to you, she’ll assume we’re talking to _her_.”

I made a face again. “Why is everyone picking on me today? I’m too tired for this.”

Varric shook his head, chuckling to himself. “You’re just mad because you know I’m right.”

I rolled my eyes, silently mouthing what he had just said, mocking his condescension. He saw me and guffawed, finding it not belittling but hilarious, which, frankly, just made me even more sour. I huffed and urged my horse ahead, falling into place beside Cassandra. Cassandra, at the very least, understood the value of silence. I appreciated that. So we rode in hush. I nearly nodded off a few times, but she would always catch when my head began to dip, and cough loudly to waken me.

We indeed made it back by midafternoon, as Solas had predicted. We tied our horses up in the stable, and by that time, I was feeling more awake. I decided to not wait another day, but to find Cullen immediately and get started on the evacuation of Haven. Because I didn’t want to walk around carrying a wolf and getting a surfeit of attention, Solas agreed to take her until I was done speaking to the Commander. The ex-templar was very near the stables, mixed in with the soldiers and recruits who were training, just outside the wooden walls of Haven. I approached him slowly, my eyebrows raised in surprise. He was speaking to a young elven woman who bore a golden _vallaslin_ proclaiming her dedication to the goddess Mythal. She wore her wine-colored hair long, but kept it swept back in a tight braid with a few strands coming loose to frame her face. Her eyes were the palest gold I had ever seen, and seemed to twinkle playfully at our Commander as he stood there, shifting from foot to foot nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. She smiled at him (with dimple, I might add), and he turned a violent shade of pink and began stuttering.

It. Was. Amazing.

I bit my lip to keep from smiling; I didn’t want him to think I was mocking him. He deserved every bit of happiness. There was a definite sway to her hips as she walked away, and his eyes took in every shimmy. I approached slowly, smiling a touch tiredly, I could tell. The moment he spotted me, he straightened his shoulders and stood a little taller, clearly attempting to recover from whatever was going on inside of him. My smile split into a grin.

“So,” I began, trying to sound casual, “who’s that?”

“Lyrianna,” he said, somewhat wistfully. He seemed to realize his tone because he cleared his throat. “Err—Lyrianna Lavellan. She came to Haven for news about the Divine, and has agreed to stay and help with our recovery efforts.”

“Is she a mage?” I asked, tilting my head. At his affirmation, I nodded. “Good. We need all the healers we can get. But that’s something I need to talk to you about, Commander Rutherford.”

“Comman—? Please, do not stand upon ceremony. Cullen is fine.”

I smiled at him, unable to not like his good nature. “Thank you, Cullen. But as I was saying—we need to discuss the refugees. There are too many here.” At his quizzical expression, I continued. “I do not mean to say that we should not be helping the people—that is _exactly_ what we need to be doing. But Haven is not defensible. The number of refugees and civilians here has been troubling me. If the individual behind the death of the Divine were to launch another assault, I am _very_ worried at the number of casualties such an attack would yield.” I looked at Haven’s walls—at its wooden gates and open-air setting—no stone walls to protect its inhabitants.

“Perhaps it is not best suited to an attack, yet those gates are sturdy. They would hold against a force and create a chokehold.”

I swallowed hard, trying not to panic. What to say, what to say? Then it came to me—the image of a dragon, flying high above, breathing fiery death down upon so many. I winced my eyes closed at the sight in my mind.

“He has a high dragon,” I said quickly, then pushed forward before he could question me. “I’ve been having these—these _flashes_ of memory,” which was true, in a way, “and he has a dragon, Cullen. Please believe me when I say we need to get these people out of here.”

Cullen’s blond eyebrows rose in alarm. “A _dragon_? Not even our trebuchets would be enough to stop a fully grown high dragon.” He heaved a heavy sigh, clearly feeling this new burden. He ran a hand over his face tiredly and shook his head. “You are right, of course. I was mistaken to have even argued—this place is _not_ defensible. I will see to its evacuation immediately.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Oh! I almost forgot—how are the templars we captured in the Hinterlands? Are they behaving well? Have any agreed to join our cause?”

“Some,” he said, looking tired. “Most, in fact, once I was able to speak to them. A few have held out, and do not understand the greater threat to peace than _mages_. I cannot say I blame them; templars are taught to fear and control the mages, and for good reason. That much power is dangerous in unstable hands.”

I eyed him, trying not to let my temper and lack of sleep get the best of me. “So is a sword, Commander.”

“A sword cannot kill twenty men with one blow,” he countered.

“A trebuchet can.”

His eyebrows shot up and he took a moment, but he inclined his head in acknowledgement of my point. “Very true, Herald. I have behaved in ways that were unworthy of me, in the past. I will not let my former…experiences blind me to our current situation. I apologize if I offended you.”

I smiled at him, relief sweeping through me again. “No, not at all. I know you have your reasons to mistrust mages, but we are not _all_ abominations. But I don’t mean to lecture—not even slightly. I appreciate how you’ve changed. Thank you, Cullen, for your support.” I gave his shoulder another squeeze, excused myself and headed off to find my Fen.

Solas had her in his cabin; when he handed her over, her fur had been cleaned and brushed, so much that she seemed to gleam in the light of the setting sun. I thanked him, and she whined when I went to leave his room, much to his amusement.

“Fen,” I said in all seriousness, “I am exhausted. We are going to bed. Has she eaten?” I asked, realizing that that should have been my first concern when I saw her again. What a horrible caretaker I was setting myself up to be.

“She has,” he said as he held the door for me. He walked out beside me, his shoulder brushing against my own. My heart skipped a beat. “She has quite the appetite.”

We stopped just outside his room, and stood in the growing quiet of twilight. I looked up at the sky as it turned from orange to lavender, my shoulder still touching Solas’, and Fen resting silently in my arms. After a moment, Solas cleared his throat.

“Would you like me to carry Fen to your quarters? It is no trouble, if you are still tired from not sleeping.” His hand touched my back and my breathing hitched slightly. He must not have noticed because he didn’t move it.

“I…I think I can manage. But I wouldn’t mind the company.” I smiled at him, trying my best not to wrap a leg around his waist and kiss him then and there. Was…was he rubbing small circles in my back? He was! He was sending healing magic through me, easing the aches in my muscles and joints. Oh, he was smooth as well as compassionate.

“Then let us walk,” he said, his hand finally falling away. I swallowed and looked up at him through my eyelashes, feeling suddenly shy.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my step matching his own as he escorted me to my cabin. We walked past the small snow banks, the scouts and general populace as they went about their evenings. I got a few strange looks (probably at the wolf curled up in my arms), but I ignored them. Nothing mattered but the fact that Solas’ hand kept brushing against my hip as we walked slowly towards my sleeping area. When we reached the cabin, he opened the door and smiled at me.

“ _Atisha_ ,” he said, wishing me peace before turning to make his way back to his own space. I watched him go, listening to Fen whine softly at his departure. Once he was out of sight, I sighed heavily and kicked the door closed. I set Fen down upon the bed, disrobed and collapsed beside her. There was much yet to do—but that could wait for the morrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...apologize for all the sexy times?? I was going to say that I'll try to limit it in the future, buuut...I wouldn't be able to abide by that promise. Sexy times, ho! :D Unless I get lots of complaints, then I will totally stop hah!  
> Also, I'm sorry it took so long to get this update out to you all. I've been pretty sad lately, and it's hard for me to write when I feel that way.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
>  _Sulenan mar melin su u’vunen_ : I sing your name to the lonely nights. [This translation is the direct work of Fenxshiral—much gratitude to him and his dedication to Elvhen!]  
>  _Atisha ashir_ : Peaceful Sleep  
>  _Boras_ : Project, throw, loose [used here as a colloquialism meaning orgasm--but in the second person, imperative]  
>  _Ma halani_ : help me


	7. Val Royeaux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** very light, consensual bondage in the beginning of this chapter.  
>  **Also...HAPPY SOLAS POSITIVITY WEEK!**

**Val Royeaux**

 

When I opened my eyes in the Fade, I knew that I was still in Haven, yet the season was different. There was no village, no Chantry, just open grassy fields spotted with forest like an artist’s careless brushstrokes. I was standing on a stony ledge overlooking the lake, and the heat making the air heavy and thick let me know it must have been summer. I was wearing the cold-weather clothes from my waking hours, and they were definitely too clunky for this swampy temperature. I closed my eyes and focused; the result was so much easier than I had anticipated. It took absolutely no effort to turn that heavy garb into the same cotton dress I had been wearing before. It swished nicely mid-calf, and was much cooler than my travel clothes. It was still hot though—much too hot. And that lake was clear and blue, and _goodness_ , did it look cool.

I looked over the ledge upon which I was standing—not too high, and really, it looked scalable. So, I sat on the edge and found some footholds, and began my way down. It took very little time, and the shock of the cold water quickly dissolved into relief as I slowly sunk into the lake. It was deeper than I expected—I probably could have safely jumped—and I felt almost like a mercreature as I dove beneath the surface. The dress billowed around me, somehow light and feathery in the water; the gauze did not drag me down in the slightest. I wondered why there were no fish, but then remembered where I was; if there were fish, they would have to be spirits, and since my encounter with Fen’Harel, I had not met a single other entity here in the Fade.

Thinking of him must have acted as a beacon. When I breached for a small breath of air—unneeded, but a force of habit nonetheless—he was there, on the banks. I sank low, watching him. He hadn’t seen me yet; he was busy staring up at the sky, one arm folded across his abdomen. I smiled as he contemplated the clear sky, and I contemplated him. He wore his circlet of bone, ragged trousers that were cut off just below the knee, and again, no shirt of which to speak.

Eventually, I started to feel a little…creepy, so I swam towards the shore. I emerged when it was too shallow to swim, in favor of standing. The dress, its light gauze saturated, clung to my legs as I walked towards Fen’Harel, who was now finally looking at me. Or at least, I assumed he was. I couldn’t see his face, for it was still masked in shadow. But it was aimed in my direction, and I took that as a good sign. He held out his arms to me and, dripping and cool in the languid heat, I stepped into his embrace. He enfolded me against his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, the water from me dribbling onto him and running down his taut skin in small rivulets. His nose brushed my shoulder and I swear, he _smelled_ me. Then again, he was a wolf. Smell was probably important to him. I returned the favor, drinking in his scent thirstily. Creators, he smelled so _good_.

His fingers were running up and down my spine, making me shiver at the light touch.

“That feels nice,” I murmured into his chest. I felt him smile against my shoulder.

“You know, as becoming as that dress is on you, it might be nice to be rid of it.”

I laughed softly, pulling back to look up at him, quirking an eyebrow as I did so. “What are you saying, _vhenan_?”

“I’m saying,” he said, his fingertips trailing up my arms now, leaving gooseflesh in their wake, “that I have missed you the past few nights. I have missed our intimacy; I have missed holding you. I did not think I would feel so…strongly so quickly.” He tilted his head. “It is strange.”

I worried my lower lip, then braved a response. “Hopefully not strange in a bad way?”

His fingers brushed the underside of my jaw, making my breathing hitch. He bent his head down, his mouth so close that I could feel his air like the softest of kisses. “It was…merely unexpected. Your presence…you change _everything_.”

And then he was kissing me and my thoughts were drowned in pure sensation. We found our way to the shade beneath a tree, and we lay together in the soft grass there. Somehow, I managed to wrangle his trousers off before he had my dress up and over my head. His head was on my chest, his mouth firmly suckling the tip of one breast, his hands teasing the insides of my thighs, when he looked up and released my nipple to say, “ _Da’falon_ , with your consent, I would like to try something you mentioned.”

I blinked down at him, unable to focus at first. It took a moment to realize he had spoken, and then to figure out what he had said. I cleared my throat, his fingers still running up and down my thighs slowly. “Oh?” I asked. “What is that?”

His teeth flashed in a white smile as he planted a kiss between my breasts. I swallowed. Hard. Oh, Creators, but I wanted him.

“I wanted to know if you would allow me to bind you?”

Liquid pooled between my thighs immediately at the very thought. My heartbeat sped and I could feel my hands tremble with desire. “Yes,” I whispered, wrapping my legs around his back, drawing him closer. “By the Dread Wolf, _yes_.”

He snorted at that, and it took a moment for me to realize why. I laughed at myself, but that laughter quickly turned into a gasp when his head dipped and his tongue touched between the lips of my labia. My legs around him tightened, and my hands immediately buried into his wealth of hair, holding him prisoner as he took his time, giving me long, slow strokes with his tongue. He avoided my clit at first, making me groan with frustration and desire. He was smiling when he looked at me, raising his head just slightly.

“You taste like magic itself,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Then _why are you stopping_?” I demanded, breathless and eager.

With a chuckle that warmed me to my core, he bent his head and returned to his task. Long, slow licks, delicious and sensual, yet _not enough_. I needed more, and he seemed to sense by my squirming and the small, desperate noises I was making when to give me what I wanted. The tip of his tongue flicked across my clit and my hips rose off the ground. He held me firmly in place, one hand grabbing my bottom tightly, the other busy sliding my leg over his shoulder as his tongue began to swirl around my clit, teasing me and making my muscles tremor. My fingers dug into his hair, and I held onto him hard as his tongue began to rub my clit up and down, gently but deftly flicking it. When he nibbled it and pulled it past his lips to suckle, I may have screamed, my legs going about him and grabbing at him, holding him to me as my orgasm rolled through me. I grabbed everything—his hair, the grass, grasped at the roots of the tree, anything to find some purchase to anchor me as my orgasm pushed through every single muscle in my body.

When it was finally done, I collapsed, breathing heavily, my muscles tired. Fen’Harel was moving, but I could not focus or make myself open my eyes. I tried to slow my breathing, and then he was kissing me, his weight heavy but welcome atop me. One of his hands cupped my right breast, giving it the gentlest squeeze as our mouths worked at each other—he tasted like me, and that alone was enough to begin to arouse me again. His tongue ran across my own, searched the corners of my mouth, and I was sure it was too soon to be aroused again, but yet…Something soft and cool ran across my stomach, rousing me enough to pull back and open my eyes.

He had a silken rope in his hands and was dragging it across my skin. My pulse leapt in response, and I looked up at him through lowered eyelashes. The idea of him dominating me completely, of him binding me, leaving me at his mercy…well, it left me with an ache deep between my legs.

“If you want the rope gone at any point, you can simply wish it away—the Fade will respond to your desire,” he said, his mouth hovering over my pulse, planting kisses between his words. “And we shall require a safe word. If at any moment you want me to stop, for any reason, you say this word and I will stop without question.”

I swallowed, my brain swimming with desire, and tried to come up with…something. Thinking was definitely difficult at that moment, when I wanted nothing more than for him to tie me up and pound me into the earth beneath us. And then after, I could return the favor…

“Red,” I said simply. “It’s easy enough that I won’t forget it.”

He nodded, laid one last kiss on the crook of my neck, then pulled back, snapping the rope between his hands. “May I…?”

I couldn’t stop my grin. “Yes, _please_.”

He was very gentle while tying me—the knot did not leave the rope too tight, and even if this hadn’t been the Fade, he showed me how I would only need to pull on one little loop and it would come undone easily. He made me practice, just to be sure, which, while I appreciated, was somewhat maddening. I wanted to feel him inside me, and I wanted it now. But I focused, listened to him, and did as he demonstrated. The knots came away with the lightest of tugs, and I was free.

And then he tied me in earnest. He checked on me as he worked, asking if the tension was where I wanted it, if the knots were too tight, if I was comfortable with where my arms were. I agreed, letting him know that I was happy with all of the above—that all I wanted in that moment, was him. His hands, now free, ran up my legs, cupping my flesh and spreading my thighs apart. He was smiling, and it drove me wild.

His hips settled between my legs, and his mouth hovered just over my ear. “Tell me you want me,” he said, his voice the huskiest of breaths against my skin. I arched at the feel, my hips trying to move up towards his heavy erection.

“ _Yes_ ,” I whispered back, trying to focus enough to form a sentence. “I want you—I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel you losing your mind.” My eyes opened and locked onto where his were in the shadow of his face. “I want to know that even though I’m the one who’s bound, I hold the control. I want to feel you wild. I want you screaming my name to the stars. I want you to know that I am the only one who can make you feel this way.”

His breathing got progressively harsher with each word I spoke until it was so raspy, I wondered if he was getting any air at all. His hands gripped my thighs suddenly, pulled them apart to expose my labia to him. He parted my lips with his fingers, and just as suddenly, he was guiding himself inside of me. I gasped and arched at the feel of his thick heat pushing into me, my wetness welcoming him and wrapping around him. I tugged on the soft ropes, reveling in the feel of the restraints. There had never been a moment more perfect than knowing that, though I was restrained, I was in complete control of this situation. I arched my hips up and squeezed him hard. He cursed, his arms planting on either side of me, his muscles trembling. He bit my neck, his desire evident in the way his erection twitched inside of me. He started with a slow pace, but I could tell it was a strain. The veins in his muscles protruded from his biceps, and he was muttering a string of curses under his breath.

He was so thick, so _hot_ , that it was all I could do to keep my mind somewhat clear in my fog of desire. I wanted to feel him lose himself to sensation. I wanted to silence the omnipresent sadness in his mind, if only for a moment. I wanted to give him more pleasure than he thought possible, as I took the very same pleasure in him. I wanted him to know that he was _loved_.

I whispered his name softly into his ear, and used my legs to draw him closer since my arms were so wonderfully bound. It created a new dynamic—a new tension in my body—one that I greatly enjoyed. I had to be…creative, to get him to loosen up a bit. I rolled my hips as best I could beneath him, and bent my head to suck on his collarbone. I ran my tongue across his skin, sucked hard, and then bit him. I kissed the small mark, and swirled my tongue over it to ease the ache. I squeezed around him, then relaxed, and then squeezed again, holding him as he struggled to pull back. His breathing grew ragged, and he was beginning to lose his heretofore perfect rhythm. I squeezed him again, hard, as he was withdrawing from me, and suddenly I found my hips pressed hard into the ground and he was moving with lightning speed.

He cried out, “ _Da’falon_ ,” and one of his arms was no longer beside me, but wrapped around my waist, angling me up so he could reach even more deeply inside me. It was too much—his throbbing erection, so thick and so _perfectly_ long, was rubbing just the right spot inside of me. He was pushing me higher and higher, the pressure inside of me building with each thrust, with every grunt and curse in my ear. Gods, he was so hot—he was so hot! He was moving so fast, and I was so wet, so ready, and he was _so_ swollen, I—

My legs clamped around him even more fiercely as I rocked, my orgasm rushing through me from somewhere deep inside. I felt a new burst of liquid as I came, and it couldn’t have come too soon because the next thing I knew was he was trying to shove himself as far into me as he could as he spent himself, his seed hot and gods, there was _so much_. He was gasping my name, his voice breaking, and words started pouring out of me.

“ _Ar lath ma, vhenan_ ,” I said, not truly able to stop myself. “ _Ar lath ma. Ne’vhenas, ma’arlath. Ne’vehnan’ara_.”

And then he was kissing me with passion that bordered on desperation, stopping my tirade. When he pulled back and spoke, the amount of pain in his voice was enough to make my heart weep, as if his words alone were not reason.

“You must not,” he said, his voice hoarse, thick with emotion. “You _must not_. I…I cannot be what you need me to be. I cannot.” He cursed, his arms still around me, holding me tight, his body still buried in my own. He kissed the side of my throat, and I could feel the tremble in his lips. “I cannot do this to you,” he said at long last, and then he was gone. I was left, lying in the grass, free now, no rope binding me, utterly alone.

As I sat up, I realized I had never, in my few memories, felt more…empty—not even when I had remembered my mother’s voice.

 

**~**

 

It was mid-morning when I awoke. Fen was nuzzling me, probably because I was crying in earnest in my sleep. While I wanted to blame myself for not being able to control my _stupid_ mouth, at the same time, I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t lie to him, and I couldn’t lie to myself. I loved him; that was a fact. I loved Solas; that, too, was a fact. And now I had been summarily rejected by both. I felt like there was a hole in my chest, and nothing would fill it—mostly because I knew that Fen’Harel cared for me. He wouldn’t have come to me repeatedly—he wouldn’t have said that I was his happiest…

And I was crying again. I buried my face into Fen’s fur and cried well past the point where my eyes had swelled. I cried until there was nothing left inside of me but a hollowness that echoed with every drop of emotion I felt. And then I pulled myself out of bed, dressed, washed my face, and went to get Fen some food—she still needed to eat, even if I didn’t want to face anyone. I didn’t feel like being spoken to, so I wrapped my head in a scarf, draping it somewhat loosely like a cowl. I put on thick gloves, hoping to hide the mark, and set out. I walked past people—didn’t stop to see if Varric was by his fire pit, certainly didn’t go out of my way to see Solas. Because I didn’t want to scare the inhabitants of Haven (though I noticed already that there were less—Cullen was true to his word), I left Fen in my room. She cried softly, but seemed to understand after I kissed her for the third time. I found a nug out near the stables and killed it. I noticed Cullen speaking again to the burgundy-haired elf with stunning golden eyes, and yet I couldn’t even muster a smile, carting my now-deceased nug back to the hungry Fen.

She ate heartily, and drank messily from the bowl of water I set down for her. While she was distracted with her brunch, I sneaked out, suddenly remembering something I had to do. It was instinct, really. I just…well, I _knew_ that Leliana needed me, and despite whatever awfulness was happening inside of me, I couldn’t push her aside simply to wallow. I found her in her tent, on her knees, seeming to be praying.

“Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just,” she said softly. “Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written.” She paused, her cloaked head dipping in thought. “Is that what You want from us?” she asked herself. “Blood? To die so that Your will is done?” My throat grew tight as she continued. “Is death Your only blessing?”

She turned suddenly, of course sensing my presence. “You speak for Andraste, no? What does the Maker’s prophet have to say about all of this? What’s His game?” Her blue eyes bore into me with so much intensity, so much pain, it was difficult to not look away—but I managed.

“A game?” I repeated. “How is this a _game_?”

“Do you see the sky?” she scoffed. “What about the temple ruins? The bones lying in the dust? Even if you didn’t support the Divine’s peace, you wouldn’t call this right. Who could?” She turned away from me, closing her eyes to mask her pain. “So many innocent lives—the faithful murdered where the holiest of holies once stood. If the Maker willed this, what is it if not a game or a cruel joke?”

I shook my head slowly, looking on with so much sorrow. “Oh, Leliana. I can’t answer that. I speak for no one but myself. “

“You probably don’t even worship the Maker,” she said, almost sneering—not at me, but at the situation, or so I thought. “Lucky. He asks a lot. The Chantry teaches that the Maker abandoned us. He demands repentance for our sins. He demands it all. Our lives. Our deaths. Justinia gave Him everything she had, and he let her die!”

I closed my eyes to find the strength through both our sorrows. I stepped forward, wanting to fold Leliana into a hug—she was so…changed. It was heartbreaking. “I’m sorry,” I managed eventually, blinking away tears. “Her death has clearly hit you hard.”

“Not just me,” she clarified. “All of us. She was the Divine. She led the faithful. She was their heart!” She turned from me to stare at the Chantry, question written across her face. “If the Maker doesn’t intervene to save the best of His servants, what good is He?” She looked thoughtful now, wistful. “I used to believe I was chosen, just as some say you are. I thought I was fulfilling His purpose for me, working with the Divine, helping people. But now she’s dead. It was all for nothing” She turned, looking at me again, defiantly. “Serving the Maker meant nothing.”

This was too much for my heart to bear. “Maybe you have another purpose,” I said, wanting again to enfold her in a hug—the last thing she needed. She was strong. “I could help you find it.”

She gazed at the Chantry again, then turned to me. “No, this is my burden. I regret that I even let you see me like this. It was a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again. Come. To work then. We will speak later.”

I watched her walk away from me and to the boxes in the back of the tent. She kept her back to me, but did not begin to work. I closed my eyes, was about to turn away, when I suddenly stopped—I couldn’t. I couldn’t walk away from her like this. I could picture her, wearing rose colored Chantry robes, smiling, her eyes bright. That woman was in there still. I ran up behind her, threw my arms around her and hugged her back tightly. She tensed, but didn’t resist. I pressed my face against her shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry, Leliana,” I said, my voice breaking. “I know nothing makes sense. But there is still good in this world—there is still light. _We_ can be the beacon others need. We can.”

I let her go and when she didn’t turn around, darted back the way I had come. I paused at the mouth of her tent, looking to the Chantry where Cullen was now pacing, arguing with good Ser Roderick. I closed my eyes tightly. It was time to go to Val Royeaux.

“Leliana,” I said, my voice no more even than before. “Will you please tell the others that tomorrow we must set forth for Val Royeaux? It is time to address the Chantry.”

She nodded, but did not turn to face me. I swallowed past the tears in my eyes and the lump in my throat and ran as fast as I could back to my room—back to quiet, back to alone, and back to Fen.

I was two-thirds of the way through the book on flora native to Thedas when the knock at the door interrupted me. I stared at the door a moment, ignoring the way Fen’s ears perked. I let out a soft sigh, looked back to my book and turned the page. I was half-way down when another knock jolted me. I glared at the door, my eyes still feeling a little swollen. I was not in the mood. Angrily, I ignored both the next knock and Fen’s responding whine.

“ _Lethallan_ ,” came Solas’ muffled voice. “Please open the door.”

Fen limped over to the door and pawed at it gingerly with her stumped leg. Sighing again, I stood and walked to the door. I opened it abruptly, looking up at him defiantly. Rationally, I knew it wasn’t _his_ fault that Fen’Harel had…well…left, but I was still so very angry at him. I said nothing, not even when his eyebrows rose as he took in my expression and the puffiness of my eyes.

“ _Lethallan_ ,” he said, gingerly cupping my cheek and running his thumb underneath my eye, smoothing down the irritation. “Are you well?”

I wanted to pull away from him, to scowl and curse, but the moment he touched me, the hard ball of ice that had been growing in my chest melted, giving burst to tears I had was so very certain I had seen the last of. Fen rubbed against my legs comfortingly, even as I threw myself at Solas’ chest, my arms wrapping around him and trapping him as I sobbed. He tensed immediately, clearly unsure how to react to such an emotional outburst.

“You’re the only one who would understand,” I said brokenly, my voice cracking. His arms finally found themselves around my shoulders, and he held me with such gentleness that I felt my heart breaking yet again. This was unreal—it was impossible to feel this much sadness at one time.

“Our Commander mentioned that you looked upset when visiting Leliana,” he said gently, his hands now rubbing soothing circles up and down my back. He said nothing else, asked no questions about what had upset me. His rubbing turned into a small pat, and I could tell from the tension in him that he wanted me to let go of him. So I did—I let go and I stepped back, unable to look him in the eye. I had almost forgotten, just for a moment, that he did not want me. My mistake. I stared at his knees I think.

“You can tell the Commander that his concern is appreciated but un—unnecessary,” I said, stumbling and choking only at the end. I sniffed, and straightened my shoulders. “I will be fine.” I closed my eyes tightly, a few lines of poetry running through my mind. “If this _Masnavi_ were suddenly sky, it could not hold half the mystery this poet enjoys in sleep. / If there were a clear way into that, no one would stay here.” Fen butted her head into my hand, and I rubbed her silken ears. “The bird of his soul escapes! Free of the body and the grieving, flying in a vast simple region that is itself, where it can sing its truth.”

Suddenly, I was enfolded in Solas’ arms again. He held me close and tight, his face pressed to my ear. He took a deep breath through his nose and said, his voice laden with sorrow, “ _In uthenera na revas, lethallan_.”

Just as unexpectedly, he was gone. I was left standing, staring at his back as he walked away, his spine rigid.

“Was that Chuckles?” Varric’s voice broke through my stupor as he walked up, rubbing his hands. “Did he tell you that Curly—whoa, Sun-Blossom, you okay?”

I blinked at him and tears that had been welling fell from my eyes. I touched my cheeks—still wet. Was I…was I still crying? I had gone numb; nothing felt real. I looked at Varric somewhat distantly, and shook my head. I swallowed, trying to find my voice.

“No,” I said honestly, “but I will be. I just…need to sleep. I need dreamless sleep.” I stopped, thinking. “Varric…do you know where I can acquire some alcohol?”

Varric’s eyebrows shot up and he started shaking his head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t think that’s going to solve your problem, Blossom. If you want to talk, I’m your dwarf, but further than that, you’re on your own.”

I struggled to find words. How could I explain to Varric what had happened? I had been making love to an Elvhen god nightly, and that very god had just broken my heart because I had told him that I loved him?

“It’s…complicated,” I said, rather lamely.

He folded his arms across his broad chest, his brow furrowed as he gazed up at me. “Did Chuckles do something to you?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, not him. I really…I don’t know how to explain it. It’s a Fade thing. With…with a Spirit?”

He eyed me suspiciously. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“I’m _not_ ,” I said, as honestly as I could. “I’m not entirely sure about anything in the Fade. All I know is that I don’t want to go there tonight.” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. I was so tired…

“When was the last time you ate, Sun-Blossom? You look a little pale?”

“Last ni—oh, no. I think…breakfast yesterday?”

“You didn’t eat breakfast yesterday, as I recall. You were practically asleep on your horse.” He sighed, shaking his head. “You have to take care of yourself, Blossom. Especially with that Mark on your hand. It seems like it burns through energy. Come on; let’s get you a meal. I’ll tell you a story about the time that Daisy fell into the Bay of Kirkwall. Let me tell you—you’ve never smelled anything foul until you smell portside Kirkwall.”

 

**~**

 

Eating, at the very least, gave me energy. I paced restlessly in my cabin, having been thinking about anything but Fen’Harel for the last hour. I had begun to wonder if Fen’s situation couldn’t be helped. The older she got, the more it might impede her. She was learning to hobble around, and soon that hobble might turn into competent running—but she would never be fast enough to catch prey; she would always depend on me for her food. I didn’t want that. If something…if something happened to me, or if suddenly I found myself back wherever I had come from, I wanted her to be okay.

Magic could heal. I knew that much. Magic could also transform—there were mages, I knew, that could change their own shape. Perhaps…perhaps I could combine those two processes?

I sat down on the floor, propped my back against my bed, and looked at Fen. I held out my arms to her, and she hopped over to me from her spot by the fire. She sat down in my lap, looking up at me with her huge sky eyes. I pressed my forehead to her own.

“Do you want me to?” I asked, running my fingers through her fur. “Do you want me to try?”

Her ears perked. I sensed confusion from her. I closed my eyes, exhaled slowly, and concentrated. I pictured her with all four paws, running faster than lightning, hunting with ease alongside me. She let out a soft woof, nuzzling my cheek. The idea of hunting—of running so freely—it excited her. She threw her head back and let out a small howl. I nodded and took her injured leg into my hands.

“Let’s begin.”

Before we started, I made sure to set up barriers to the best of my ability. First of all, if this went wrong, I wanted whatever happened to be…contained. Secondly, I did not want Solas to interrupt me. If he sensed strong magic at work, he might come to investigate—so I made sure I focused on the barriers I created containing magic as well as physical threats.

The healing took…energy. A lot of it. I tried fueling the magic from within at first, and I nearly fainted. Before when I had pulled too much energy from the Fade, I had not only frozen so many people, but I had also opened a rift. I would have to be careful—but the energy from the Fade was exactly what I needed. Pulling inch by inch, ounce by ounce, I kept my eyes closed and focused on how it had felt to heal that Inquisition soldier in battle—but instead of knitting skin together, I focused on growing a paw. I didn’t know exactly what parts went into a paw—bone and tissue and skin and fur, obviously, but I had no idea their order or structure. So I didn’t think about it. I held the leg in my hands, and I _felt the paw there_ , the same as any of her other paws.

It was getting warm in my room—how long had we been working? Hours? Days? Minutes? I couldn’t tell. It wasn’t on my mind—the only thing that mattered was Fen. She was holding perfectly still, her breathing in time with my own. We moved as one unit, thought as one entity. She was so patient as I slowly, so _slowly_ , pulled magic from the Fade. I poured it into her leg—poured it into her. We sat together, unmoving yet shimmering with energy. There were no words in my mind, only the sensation of healing and growing and transforming.

My senses returned in waves. The first thing I really felt was the sweat dripping off the tip of my nose. Then I could feel Fen’s bristly fur in my hands, and then my heart beating in my chest, so slowly that for a moment, I thought it might have stopped altogether. Then I could _taste_ the gravelly dryness in my mouth—like waking up after not taking care of my teeth and breathing through my mouth all night. Then I could see the light, tinted just slightly green, seeping in through my closed eyes.

Lastly was the pounding. Something was pounding _so_ loudly—and shouting. There was shouting. I realized it was this noise that had pulled me out of my healing trance. It wasn’t pounding—it was thudding. Something was slamming into my door, and then suddenly, it was blasted off its hinges. I felt the wood explode, but none of it touched Fen or myself. We were…protected. Then our barrier shattered and it was as if an air-tight seal had been broken. My ears stuffed instantly, needing to pop.

Dull voices—loud but unclear, as if coming from underwater. The more I focused on these voices, the clearer they became.

“—is she doing?”

“I am unsure, at present—”

“Stop her!”

“As I have said, to bring her out of her meditative state could prove—”

“I do not care what it could do! She could be creating another Breach!”

“The Breach, if anything, has been calm since—”

“Maker, Sun-Blossom, what did you _do_?”

“Varric, I told you to wait outside!”

“Seeker, use those pretty eyes of yours!” A laugh, more relieved than amused. “Look at what she’s holding!”

An intake of breath—familiar—Solas?

“It is simply that wolf she insisted on—”

“Yes, I understand, you don’t care for her new pet, but Maker, _look at what part of Fen she’s holding_.”

A gasp, definitely Cassandra. Listening was getting…easier. I could feel the wood beneath me. I could feel Fen shift, tug on her paw. I released her slowly, my fingers feeling surprisingly stiff—as if they had been cramped in the same position for hours—and they very well might have. It took a concerted effort, but I was finally able to flutter my eyes. The voices, which had begun arguing again, hushed. I made a small, dry noise in the back of my throat and was eventually able to open my eyes. I winced them closed immediately at the bright green light surrounding me. Fen’s nose pressed to my cheek, and I was able to open my eyes the barest slit, peering out at the people standing about me.

The first thing I really noticed was that I was surrounded by that green light, emanating predominately from the mark on my hand. Concentrating, I focused on it, calming the energy that was still pulsing inside of me. It felt like I…like I swallowed it, for lack of a better expression. One moment it was there, pulsing and sparkling, and the next it was gone somewhere within me. I was able to open my eyes fully and look up to see my advisors, as well as Cassandra, Varric and Solas around me. Fen yawned, unimpressed, and then folded herself on her front paws and promptly went to sleep. She was a growing girl, after all.

“What…what did you do?” Cullen asked, looking ashen but otherwise composed.

It took a long moment to process what he had said—and then to realize that he was, in fact, speaking to me. I smiled up at him dreamily, continually floating somewhere from all that raw, pure energy. I felt like the Universe was inside of me.

“Healed,” I said, finding speech a touch difficult. I was still smiling. My voice was soft, not raspy like I was expecting, but musical and lilting. “She is healed.”

“Solas, do you have any insight as to what the Herald has done?” Leliana asked, not looking away from me.

The elven apostate inclined his head respectfully. “If, perhaps, you could afford me a bit of time and privacy, I may be able to dispel the lingering sympathetic magic and bring a semblance of coherency back to Fen.”

I laughed and the sound was music—all sounds were music. Did they know that they were glowing? Everything was alive and bright and wonderful. “Our bodies dance, and our souls are made of music and joy,” I said, trying to explain to them, trying to get them to see.

They all turned and looked at me in unison. Everything was synchronized. Everything was perfect. Everything was energy and energy was perfect, a perfect system; flawless.

“Is…is she _high_?” Varric demanded, the only one who looked amused. I laughed and held out a flower to him. He blinked, hesitated, and then reached out, slowly, to take it. He looked at it, eyeing the way it glowed. “Where did you get this, Sun-Blossom?”

I grinned, rocking back against my bed. “I made it.”

The blond dwarf held the flower out towards Solas. “Maybe you should…”

Solas nodded and accepted the flower, looking at it. “Fascinating.” I saw a small stream of energy leave his hand, enter the flower, swirl and mix with the light of the flower, and then enter into Solas again. I laughed at how beautiful it was. He looked at me, confused. “With what did you compose this flower? I do not recognize the material.”

“I _made_ it,” I said again, my joy spreading out from my fingertips. “Starlight can’t be held. I wanted to hold it!”

“If the Herald is intoxicated, and seems to have access to extraordinary amounts of magic,” Josephine said, holding her tablet and looking at Solas, “is Haven in danger?”

“No,” Solas said, his eyes not leaving me. “She is no danger to anyone at the moment. But if you would not mind—”

“Where is Fen’Harel?” I asked, looking around. I gripped my bed, trying to stand. “I can feel him. _Enas! Dar in ma vhenan_ ,” I said, putting a hand over my heart. I looked around, unable to find Fen’Harel. He was so close—I could _feel_ him. But then I saw Solas and I couldn’t stop my smile. “You are, too. _Ma vir’vhenas_ ,” I said, holding out my arms to him as I finally found my footing.

“—I think it would be best if I began to dispel the magic lingering. It will help to clear her mind.”

“Would you like me to get Lyrianna?” Cullen asked Solas. “She is an adept mage—she might be able to be of some help.”

He shook his head. “That will not be necessary.”

“Why do we wear clothes?” I asked, looking down at my night-tunic. I frowned, tugging at it. “Clothes separate us. Vivienne and Dorian like clothes too much. They cause tension and disparity between us. Clothes are a fiction! They _lie_!” I pulled my tunic over my head. “Everyone! Abandon the fiction! Accept our connectedness—we are all one! One energy, one mind!”

Cullen exclaimed, “Maker!” and was gone. Varric backed out, waving his hands and saying something about how he was glad I wore bindings to bed, and then he was gone. Josephine and Leliana were next, leaving Cassandra and Solas. The Seeker was blushing and not looking at me.

“Are you sure you are…comfortable dealing with her like this, Solas?”

“I shall be fine—”

“And pants!” I said, turning to them. “Pants are just as bad!” I began tugging at my pants, kicking them off awkwardly—they clung to me. How could something so _false_ be so _stubborn_? “Get _off_!”

“…I think,” he finished with a sigh. Cassandra nodded, then shook her head and exited, closing the door behind her. Oh! The door hadn’t been smashed! The wood—the wood had felt like it had exploded though!

“Solas!” I tried to walk to the door, but was hindered by my pants around my ankles. “Solas, the door! I felt it explode! I felt it!”

He shook his head, gently gripping my shoulders. He steered me back to the bed, urging me to sit. “It did not explode. Varric tried to pick the lock, but it was jammed. Cullen had to smash it in, but the door itself is fine. It will be repaired when we are gone on our journey to Val Royeaux—that is, if you think you can release the magic inside of you enough to calm down and make the trip tomorrow?”

I smiled up at him. His hands on my shoulders…I could feel his energy mixing with my own. While his hands were on me, we were one. I could see his heart, and it was the most beautiful thing I could imagine. “You have stars in your eyes,” I said, putting my hands on top of his own. “Your heart is bigger and brighter than the sun.” I gasped, an idea occurring to me. “Solas! Can you imagine what it would feel like for our _bodies_ to mix while our energies do?” He jolted, not understanding. “We could have one form! Can you imagine?” I laughed. “But we already do. You’re in my heart. Did you know?” He was searching for words. So many thoughts, always, so many thoughts holding him back. All the same—I wanted to feel what it would be like to have him inside me while this energy was flowing between us. I lifted one of his hands and stuck one of his fingers in my mouth. I closed my lips around him, and then let my eyes drift shut.

The energy circuit we had created by touching intensified. I could see—I could see so much! He was so filled with love—but there was fear, so much fear. He was afraid that I—

And then his hands were gone, and just as suddenly, the energy inside of me was draining. Fen sat up abruptly, her ears perked as she looked at us both. She whimpered at whatever Solas was doing, clearly not liking it— _I_ didn’t like it. The perfection, the simplicity, I was losing it. I looked up at him, and I could feel my expression was distraught.

“What did you do?” I asked, trying to grab his arm. “It’s going. Where? Where is it going?”

He sat beside me and took my hand. The more he touched me, the faster it all faded—but I…I didn’t want him to let go.

“You need to dispel this magic,” he said gently. “I am simply helping. Your foci alone would be enough to overwhelm the strongest mage’s senses. The amount of magic you were channeling directly from the Fade was not healthy or natural. It would take its toll eventually. You need to let it go.”

“It wasn’t overwhelming me,” I said, and my mind was indeed beginning to clear, if one could call it that. It was more like…fear was returning. “I was getting stronger.”

“But you could not focus,” he said. “If you continued, you would be walking naked in the snow, making flowers grow, and your duty would be forgotten. You must remember how many rely upon you.”

“Yes,” I said softly, thinking of all the faces—the sea of faces—staring at me as I had been marched out of the dungeon for the first time. They all…they needed me. They needed me to be focused. They needed me to have purpose. The last few sparkling strands of magic connecting me to the Beyond disintegrated, snapped and fled back from whence they came. I was left sitting, half-naked, rather cold, and very, very tired. I blinked at Solas, fighting to stay awake now that my energy source was gone.

“Her paw…” I began.

“I know,” he said, not unkindly. “It was a miraculous thing you did. To regrow a limb…” He shook his head. “You should not have been able to do it. It should have been impossible. And yet you did it—you did the impossible _again_.” He looked at me, and his eyes were so bright. “You change _everything_.”

My heart clenched, an instinctive reaction. Where had I heard that? Someone…someone had said that to me.

“Solas, I…” I was cut off by a yawn. He ran a hand through my hair, then he helped me back onto my bed. He tucked me in, and he gave me the softest of squeezes on the shoulder. As he left, I could have sworn I heard him say, “Rest well, _vhenan_.” But that was impossible. It was an impossible thing.

The last thing I remember was Fen climbing up onto my bed beside me. I wrapped my arms around her and felt, for the first time in a long time, complete—memories or no.

 

**~**

 

Dawn arrived too soon. I was still exhausted when the knock at my door drew me out of bed. We saddled our horses—this time I remembered the grab a bed roll. Everyone was quiet. Fen slept still in my bed—it would not do to take her to Orlais. It would separate us further, and might perpetuate the notion that we Fereldens, and we Dalish, were savages.

Once Haven was out of sight, Cassandra slowed her mount to ride beside me.

“Herald,” she said sternly, her jaw set, “you cannot abuse magic in such a way again. It is disturbing, and will give others the wrong impression of the Inquisition.”

I stared at her, not really comprehending. “What? _Abuse_ magic? I healed Fen! How is that abuse?”

“And while you did, green light poured from your cabin and scared many. Three templars panicked, and a skirmish nearly broke out. It was all Cullen could do to calm them before we could get to you.”

My heart skipped a beat—why? Why were these people so violent? I was not going to cause another Breach—of course, they didn’t know that. Give them the benefit of the doubt. “Cassandra. While I will endeavor to keep my magic less noticeable in the future, and while I will do my best not to upset any in our movement, I will not promise that I won’t heal. I am going to heal as many as I can. You and the templars will have to live with that.”

“If you cannot control yourself—”

“What part of ‘healing’ did you not understand? You may rail against me, Cass, but you won’t change my mind.” I was sorely tempted to tell her to _try_ to lock me up again, but I did not want to threaten her—or anyone. I wanted to fix the hurt in this world. “I will do my best to keep the templars pacified—this I swear. But do not ask me to not heal a wound when I see it. I have to. It is who I am.”

“It seems like that’s as close to a compromise as you’re going to get, Seeker,” Varric said, inclining his head. “I’d take it.”

A vein in Cassandra’s temple throbbed, and her jaw was clenched so tightly. She shook her head and sighed in exasperation. “No more glowing light coming from your cabin, and I will be satisfied. Solas has assured us that blood magic was not used to heal your _pet_ —but that begs the question how you amassed that much power without the use of lyrium. I assume you do not have some sort of secret store of the stuff acquired during our brief foray into the Hinterlands?”

I raised my left hand and waved it. “I have a direct connection to the Fade—from where all magic stems. I don’t need lyrium.”

“Yes, and you seem to have mysteriously acquired mastery over the mark in a very short amount of time.”

“Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast,” I exclaimed, fed up. “I am _trying_ to help! I came with you willingly—I am going to Val Royeaux willingly, to deal with the Chantry, with the understanding that they very well may _kill me_. If I were an evil genius bent on changing the world as we know it, would I really be here? Helping the Inquisition? Going where I will surely be outnumbered?”

Solas shifted in his seat as Cassandra raked a hand through her short black hair, careful of not disturbing the braid that circled the crown of her skull. “Yes, I see your point. You are right, of course. I am not so stubborn as to not see reason when it is presented. I should endeavor to remember that you came with me of your own freewill. It is just…” she trailed off, thinking. “Ferelden has undergone much at the hands of magic. We are suspicious for many reasons.”

“It isn’t magic,” I said, trying not to be angry or condescending. “Magic isn’t the issue. Everyone is so afraid of abominations, of power and corruption, that they have become blind. They see magic as the source of evil when in reality it is the quest for power and domination over others that have led to this desperate state. Circles were formed to curtail mages becoming abominations by providing places to study and learn how to handle their magic—but institutions are run by people, and people are corruptible, especially when dominated by fear. Fear of power, fear that mages would take control, fear of demons, fear of _losing power_ —whatever it was, it drove the Circles and templars to do awful things. I am not blaming them for this crisis—but you must admit that Kirkwall was not the only place where mages suffered. They weren’t even allowed to have families. Babies were taken away from mothers; children taken from families by force—how could this be seen as healthy? As good?” I shook my head. I was ranting. “Sorry; I don’t mean to lecture. I suppose I just…have strong feelings about it.”

“Reform needs to happen, of course,” Cassandra conceded, “but to suggest that we ought to do away completely with Circles? When they have been home and shelter to so many? When they protect not only the populace, but mages themselves? This cannot be the answer.”

“Then I am eager to hear what reforms you would suggest to keep this madness from happening again,” I said calmly. “Especially considering the strongest and most stable people I know are apostates or hedgemages; considering the Dalish have no Circles and are not overrun with abominations. Their system is by no means perfect either, but I have never heard of a Dalish clan being destroyed or overrun with abominations due to their lack of Circles—have you?”

Cassandra looked at Varric, and then back to me. “There was Merrill’s clan—her keeper became an abomination.”

I pinched my nose. “One case—one case that was also driven by _fear_ ; fear that Merrill would herself become the abomination; fear of the unknown—it is this _fear_ that we need to combat. Not magic. Not mages.”

“You think it so simple a thing? So easy a task? To tell people not to be afraid, and then all of our problems will be solved?”

“No. We need to _show_ them to not be afraid; to teach people how to live without the fear of magic. I plan on doing that as best I can, to lead by example.”

“A worthy goal,” she conceded, but I could tell she was far from convinced. “I wonder how many others will be as eager as you seem to be to be the example Thedas needs?”

“I have to start somewhere,” I said simply. “And starting with myself is the best place to begin. And I know that I am not alone.” I smiled at her. “I have you. I have Varric. I have Solas, another mage—an apostate, I might add—bent on saving the world and helping the people who reside here. Everything he does is to help people. Everything. With inspiration like that, I am confident in the journey before us.”

“While I do not agree with the methods utilized by Circles,” Solas said quietly from behind me, “I think perhaps you are giving me too much credit. You think too highly of my abilities.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Or you too lowly. If given the choice, I will see the light side of things. This world stands in enough shadow. I don’t need to add to it. I would rather be an optimist and proven wrong again and again than a pessimist proven right.”

Solas inclined his head. “I am simply a realist.”

I grinned at him. “Call it what you will, thinking anything other than the best won’t aid me in our struggle. Thinking the best of people is so much more motivating.”

“It can also leave you unprepared if plans go awry.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. “There is no way to predict another’s actions. Anything could happen, so I hope for the best.”

“I suppose that is true,” Solas said, looking ahead. “At least you seem to have been a surprise at every turn.”

“I’m pretty predictable when it comes down to it,” I said with a shrug.

Varric snorted. “I guess you think regrowing someone’s limb, or sending fifty people into a catatonic stupor, is normal then, Sun-Blossom.”

I squinted at the dwarf as he rode up beside me. “I mean my motivations. I will try to help, if I can. And not kill. Besides,” I said, looking down at my hand, “that isn’t really me. It’s the mark.”

The blond dwarf _hmm_ ed thoughtfully, and all grew quiet. I managed to wrangle him into telling us another story about Hawke, which led to another, then another. And so our morning passed into afternoon, and then to evening. We ate by the warmth of a fire—crossing through the mountains to Val Royeaux, it was going to get even colder than I was finally getting used to in Haven. It was also going to take at least a week, and that was _with_ Dennet’s mounts.

“Where will we be staying in Val Royeaux?” I asked, tilting my head as I watched the fire dance. “We can’t just…make camp. They’ll never take us seriously if we live like hobos.”

Varric snorted and muttered ‘hobos,’ under his breath. Solas’ eyebrows rose as he leaned back. “Fen raises a good point, Lady Seeker.”

“I am well aware of the pains we must take while we are in Orlais,” Cassandra said, somewhat testily. “We shall be staying at a hotel of good repute. It is where minor nobility who are not important enough to stay at the palace, and wealthy merchants, stay, or so Leliana has informed me.”

I suddenly sat up very straight.

“Does that mean,” I began, somewhat breathlessly, “that there will be _baths_?”

Cassandra was nonplussed by my enthusiasm. “Of course there will be.”

I let out a small squeal of anticipation, got so excited that I actually rocked backwards. I laughed, lying there on my back and staring up at the clear night sky above.

“Seems like you like baths, Sun-Blossom.”

I sighed, wrapping my arms around myself. “There’s nothing quite like a nice, hot soak to really get the muscles to relax.”

“I can think of a few things,” Varric teased.

“Well, so can I,” I retorted, “but no one here is willing to have sex with me, so that’s out.”

Our storyteller choked on his jerky he was laughing so hard. Cassandra made her patented disgusted noise and folded the remains of her food up in a kerchief for tomorrow.

“On that note, I am going to bed. I would appreciate it if you would all _attempt_ to be quiet.” She looked pointedly at Varric when she spoke, and went to get into her bedding. As soon as Varric had calmed down, I grinned at him and winked, which set him off laughing again.

“Ah, Blossom, you’re full of surprises.”

I snorted, still staring at the sky above me. “Oh, really? I thought I’d been pretty vocal about my frustration. I…” I suddenly remembered Solas was still within earshot and I really did not need to be talking about my sexual desires in front of _him_. “I should shut up and go to bed. Goodnight.”

“If it is because I am here,” Solas said unexpectedly from across the fire, “please, do not censor yourself.”

“Are you psychic?” I asked, not sitting up, not able to look at him. “Besides, no one here wants to hear about my lamentous desires.”

“I don’t think that’s a word, Blossom.”

“Not that I am aware,” Solas replied smoothly, “but do not think you are the only one to suffer from…tension.”

I spoke so quickly that all my words ran into each other. “I’m-going-to-bed-good _night_.”

With that, I stood, marched to my bedroll and curled into my bedding. I buried my face in my blankets, hiding and wishing Fen was here. My heart was racing too fast to relax, let alone sleep. I heard Varric and Solas chat softly for a few minutes, and then the gentle rustle of the two climbing into their rolls. Varric’s breathing smoothed out into light snores, and soon enough, Cassandra was mumbling to herself, lost in the throes of sleep.

Was Solas sleeping? It was impossible to tell. It was also impossible for me to relax. Every time I tried, I imagined Solas’ “tension.” I wondered just how thick it was. That, of course, led me to certain memories I had recently acquired of Fen’Harel. I missed him—I missed his touch, his voice, the way he held me. I gripped myself tightly, hoping my small sniffling sounds were muted. I was getting so _tired_ of crying.

We woke before dawn. I rose, exhausted, sure my eyes were puffy, but uncomplaining. It was a new day—new adventures were to be had. Once I had an hour or so to wake, I was able to actually get Cass to open up a bit to me. I mentioned to her that I had forgotten to pack a book, and she promised to loan me one—which led to a detailed conversation about one of her favorite serials. She and I spent the day chatting, while Solas and Varric hung back a few paces, probably sensing the delicacy of our budding conversation. That night, I began the first installment in one of the many series Cassandra was reading. We talked about nothing else the next day, nor the following. By the end of the week, I was certain both of our companions never wanted to hear us speak again—especially not about Duke Calloway, a renegade ex-templar who fought for justice in the dead of night in the streets of Denerim.

“If I have to hear one more _word_ about that Calloway idiot, I’m going to kill something,” Varric said, rubbing his temples as we marched up to the gates of Val Royeaux. “He’s a poorly written sot who would never make it a day in Kirkwall.”

“The dwarf said testily, perhaps mad that he hadn’t written the character himself,” I said sweetly.

Varric’s eyebrows shot up and he stared at me a moment before bursting into laughter. I blew him a kiss and turned to look forward, to take in our surroundings. The air here was so much warmer than it had been through the mountains—warmer and smelling slightly of fish. Near a harbor, then. The sky was as blue as I could remember, and the walls surrounding the city were bedecked with winged golden lions roaring at any who dared enter. Flowers, tropical red and soft lilac, were potted just at the entrance. The buildings were tall, grand, and decorated with spires. It was lovely.

“The city still mourns,” Cassandra said, somewhat somberly.

As we approached the gates, a woman, dressed in the largest hat I had ever seen and a silver mask, screamed and fled our very sight. Varric looked to Cass.

“Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are.”

We stopped before tall metal gates. “Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric,” Cassandra replied. I snorted, and quickly covered it with a cough at the glare I got—from both.

“My lady Herald,” a scout said, somewhat reverently as she approached. I tried my best not to wince at the title.

“You’re one of Leliana’s people. What have you found?” our warrior demanded.

“The Chantry mothers await you, but…so do a great many templars,” the scout reported.

“There are templars here?”

The scout nodded, her eyes not leaving Cass. “People seem to think the templars will protect them from…from the Inquisition. They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the templars intend to meet you.”

“Only one thing to do, then,” Cassandra stated, looking to me.

I nodded. “Turn tail and flee?” I cupped my fist dramatically. “Oh! I got it! Abandon Orlais— _after_ taking a bath!”

The Seeker, needless to say, was not amused. She pretended I had not spoken. “They wish to protect the people? From us?”

“Protect them from the blasphemous ‘Herald of Andraste,’ more like.”

She scoffed. “Surely they cannot think such a thing!”

I shrugged, and Varric stepped forward. “You think the Order’s returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?”

“I _know_ Lord Seeker Lucius,” Cassandra put in. “I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense, not after all that’s occurred.” She turned her attention to the scout. “Return to Haven. Someone will need to inform them if we are…delayed.”

The young woman in the heavy green cowl dipped her head. “As you say, my lady.” She turned and was gone. I looked at Cassandra and smiled tentatively.

“No possible way to go to the hotel first, is there?” I may have had ulterior motives; a bath just sounded so marvelous.

She snorted at me, and marched forward. I sighed, hung my head, and trailed after her. It was hard to be pouty for long—for all its faults, Orlais was beautiful. Towering stone statues lined the path towards the center of Val Royeaux. The stone walkway was littered with golden leaves, and vines trailed up the metal gates ahead. It was…enchanting. There was a structure in the very center, surrounded by golden lion replicas and a small waterway. There was a wooden gallows to the left, once we entered the city proper, and to the right, I could hear the sounds of a crowd gathered.

As we approached the small platform that had been erected—where a holy mother seemed to be addressing the crowd—I overheard a nobleman mutter, “The templars will help us, as they always have. We’ve no need for an Inquisition.”

I ground my teeth and ignored him. I reached out blindly and caught one of my companion’s hands. Varric. I squeezed it for support, and he squeezed back. I let go, straightened my shoulders, and approached, side by side with Cassandra.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” Mother Hevara cried, her arms raised. I cocked my head, watching. A handsome templar stood beside her, offering his support and protection. “Together we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!” The crowd murmured their agreement. “You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!” She looked me dead in the eye. “Behold the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need.”

I had to swallow back the pure bile of anger I felt rise in my throat. I took a deep, steadying breath and shook my head. When I spoke, I made sure all could hear me. “I make _no such claim_. I wasn’t sent here by Andraste _or_ the Maker!” I maintained eye contact with the angry woman on the stage, showing her nothing but cool collection. “I am simply trying to close the Breach. It threatens us _all_ , if that had slipped your notice.”

Cassandra stepped forward, half to support me, and half to stop my snark before it turned into a full tirade, I think. “It’s true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!”

A gasp to our left drew our attention. Templars, led by who I could only assume was Seeker Lucius, approached. Hevara positively smirked. “It is already too late!” she cried, gleeful. “The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition,’ and the people will be safe once more!”

The Seeker and his men mounted the stage, and he walked straight past the mother. He touched the shoulder of the handsome templar beside her, even as one of the Seeker’s men punched the older woman in the back of the head, knocking her down. I gasped, stepping forward, stopped only by Cassandra’s restraining grip on my arm.

The templar Seeker Lucius had approached had a similar reaction. Lucius smiled and it made my stomach turn. “Still yourself. She is beneath us.”

When no one else spoke up, I shook Cass off. “Was that display supposed to impress anyone? Hitting a defenseless _Chantry Mother_?”

“On the contrary—it wasn’t aimed to impress any, least of all you.”

“Lord Seeker Lucius,” Cassandra said, approaching the man, “it’s imperative that we speak with—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “You will not address me,” he said haughtily.

“Lord Seeker?”

He walked on, not looking at her. “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed.”

“For fuck’s sake; does _no one_ listen?” I said, but he continued, talking over me.

“You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who have failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear!” He pointed directly at us. “If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.” His smile slipped when I laughed.

“The templars are joining us, soldier by soldier,” I said, then turned to his men. “Templars! One of your own commands the Inquisition’s forces. Join us as he, and so many others, did!”

“You’re a mage!” he scorned. “Your ties are worthless. They’re all made traitors just by being in your company!”

The handsome templar, his name on the _tip_ of my brain, spoke from behind Lucius. “But Lord Seeker…what if she really was sent by the Maker? What if—?” The young man leaned around his leader, looking at me. I tried to put as much sympathy and compassion into my face as I could.

“I am no Herald. But think about what you are doing—would the Maker want you punching helpless women? What next? _Children_?”

Lucius sneered, turning his back to me.

“You are called to a higher purpose!” the templar who had punched Hevara said. “Do not question!”

Lucius looked at the young man with nothing but hatred and anger radiating from him. “ _I_ will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void. _We_ deserve recognition. Independence!” He turned once more to face me. I smiled at him sweetly. His scowl deepened. “You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition…less than nothing.”

“Not possible,” I said. “Negatives are a concept that have no practical application, especially not in that context.”

He ignored me and turned back to his men. “Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!”

As he led the men and women of the Templar Order away, Varric strolled up to Cassandra and I, head down low. He snorted, turning and folding his arms across his chest as he watched them go. “Charming fellow, isn’t he?”

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?” Cass asked, I think more to herself than either of us. Solas approached silently, walking up and standing behind us a pace.

“Did you know him well?” I asked.

“He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert’s death. He was always a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding. This is very bizarre.”

“Well,” I said, rocking back on my heels, “it doesn’t look like the templars will be amenable to helping us after all. Hopefully the mages will be more inclined.”

“I wouldn’t write them off so quickly. There must be those in the Order who see what he’s become. Either way, tomorrow we should return to Haven and inform the others.”

I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. As mad as she had made me, we needed to see that Mother Hevara was uninjured. I turned back to the stage, and overheard two Orlesians say, “They left us. The templars left us to the mages! Chantry liars!”

I approached the mother hesitantly. She sneered up at us, still recovering. “This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra.”

“We came here seeking only to speak with the mothers,” Cass replied. “This is not our doing, but yours.”

“And you had no part in forcing our hand? Do not delude yourself. Now we have been shown up by our own templars, in front of everyone. And my fellow clerics have scattered to the wind, along with their convictions. Just tell me one thing: if you do not believe you are the Maker’s chosen, then what are you?”

“Someone who can help close the Breach and _end_ this madness,” I said simply.

“That is…more comforting than you might imagine.”

“Good,” I said. “I am here to comfort and heal all I can. That starts with the hole in the sky. Do you need assistance?”

“Do not insult me.” She sighed. “I suppose it is out of our hands now. We shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come.”

I inclined my head and turned, leaving her to recover her pride on her own. As we were walking away from the scaffold, an arrow shot down, nearly hitting us. Attached to it, I could see, was a note.

“What’s that? An arrow with a message?” Cass asked, walking up beside me as I reached down to read the thing. It read:

            _Favors for Favors for Friends_

_People say you’re special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone._

_There’s a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search_

_for the things in the market, the docks and ‘round the café, and maybe you’ll_

_meet him first. Bring swords._

_-Friends of Red Jenny_

 

A slow grin split across my face as I looked over the various doodles scattered along the edges of the note. Sera. She was such a card.

“How…bizarre,” Cassandra said, reading over my shoulder.

“Well,” Varric said, after I had read it aloud, “do you think we should find this ‘baddie’?”

I nodded, pocketing the note. “Yes. Once we find the other clues, definitely. Come on; let’s start with the docks.”

“Is this truly an important use of the Inquisition’s time, Fen?” Solas asked, surprising me. He had been so quiet all day—really since that first night at camp, especially considering that I had been too shy to try to get him to talk about his journeys in the Fade. I smiled at him tentatively.

“Yes, it really is.”

He nodded, accepting my word. “Then we shall accomplish this task.”

I tried not to let that go to my head; Solas approved of me enough that he took me at my word. He accepted that if I said something was important that it _was_. I swore in that moment, I was walking on clouds.

We found the first red handkerchief by the docks, next to some fish that were a bit…off. Inside the kerchief was a key with a note about a man swearing drunkenly against, well, _me_. The next red scrap of cloth we found in the café, as promised. In it was a note with a crudely drawn map, indicating a stable. I promised Varric we would dine at the café for dinner, mostly because it was the only way to get him to _leave_ without a glass of ale. As we headed towards the stairs leading to second level of the market, a young man dressed in Circle Mage robes seemed desirous of our attention.

I stopped when he addressed me. “You are the Herald of Andraste, are you not? I have an invitation for you.” He handed me an envelope of thick, clean parchment, gilded with gold and sealed with crimson wax. I nodded my thanks and opened the invitation.

“What is it?” Cassandra asked, trying to see over my shoulder. I showed her.

“It’s from Vivienne de Fer. She’s holding a salon and wants me to go.”

“Is that entirely safe?” Solas asked. “For Fen to go on her own?”

Cassandra eyed the seal and nodded. “I know of this woman. She was once part of the Circle, but has been in Orlais serving the Empress for some time now. She is an honorable enough mage.”

“I know she is,” I said, smiling. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

We found the last clue upstairs, as I had suspected we would. The scrap of bright cloth was discarded beside a large potted plant. There was a scrap of paper, written much more poorly than the others, indicating the time of this alleged liaison.

“Tonight at 3:00. Well, we’ll have to go to bed early.” I eyed the sky, judging the time. “Not even noon yet—we have plenty of time to get to Vivienne’s, stop by the hotel for a bath, some sleep, then head out to stop this fellow here and be on our way back to Haven. Maybe even get more sleep in before dawn, if we’re lucky.”

Varric groaned, raking a hand through his loosely bound hair. “You enjoy the salon—I think I’m going to go straight to the hotel and nap.”

Cassandra shook her head. “We are all going. We shall wait outside, should you require our assistance.”

I smiled at our Seeker. “Thanks, Cass. I appreciate the support. Come on; daylight’s wasting.”

As we were leaving the city proper, an elf wearing mage battle robes stepped from the shadows. She had short, dark hair and eyes that had clearly seen too much pain.

“If I might have a moment of your time?” she asked, her Orlesian accent light and melodic.

Cassandra seemed surprised. “Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

Solas cocked his head to the side. “Leader of the mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?”

My heart squeezed a little; he was _always_ thinking about others. Creators, I loved him so mu—I stopped that train of thought, my eyes stinging. Do not go down that path, I told myself.

“I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes. If it’s help with the Breach you seek, perhaps you should look among your fellow mages.”

I jumped at the chance. “Does that mean the mages will help us?”

“We’re willing to discuss it with the Inquisition, at least. Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all.” She inclined her head respectfully. “I hope to see you there. _Au revoir_ , my lady Herald.”

We watched her go, just as silently as she had appeared.

“Come,” Cassandra said, turning once more towards our path. “To the Ghislain Estate.”

It was a thirty minute ride by horse to the Duke Bastien’s chateau, where Vivienne was hosting her little salon. Little was, perhaps, not the right word; the chateau was huge and elegant—everything a castle should be. The entryway itself, the salon, was larger than most houses I had seen so far in Thedas. The windows towered above us and overlooked the front garden, where my companions were waiting. People in masks, _nobility_ I gathered, stood around, conversing lightly.

“Lady Herald,” the crier announced, “on behalf of the Inquisition!”

I walked slowly into the parlor, turning to take it all in—statues in marble, flowers in elegant pots, a staircase grander than any I had ever seen—it was _so much_. A man in a ridiculous mask stopped me.

“What a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome.”

I smiled, wishing hard we had stopped _before_ the salon to bathe. I felt…out of place in my travel garb and dirty knuckles. The woman at his side didn’t seem to mind—she seemed genuinely ecstatic to see me.

“So you must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien? Are you here on business? I have heard the most curious tales of you. I cannot imagine half of them are true.”

I smiled at her, unable not to—that ruff around her throat alone was enough reason to grin. Their fashions were ridiculous to me, but I was sure I was just as ridiculous to them. Or maybe not—maybe they were kinder than I. “Everything you’ve heard? All true.”

“Better and better!” she exclaimed. “The Inquisition should attend more of these parties.”

“The Inquisition?” Scoffed a man on the stairs as he made his way down. His hat was large and full of plumage. I disliked him on sight, which was small of me, but true. “What a load of pig shit!”

…maybe not so small.

“Washed up sisters,” he said, taking a jab at Leliana, “and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously.” He approached me brashly, his puffed sleeves brushing me as he walked past. “Everyone knows it is just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”

I laughed, unable not to—he was so ridiculous, and clearly looking for a fight. “The Inquisition,” I clarified, still smiling, “is working to restore peace and order to Thedas. Simmer down.”

“Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army!”

“Army!” I exclaimed, looking around. “Oh, my. I seem to have misplaced it. Surely you can point me in the right direction, seeing as you’re so well-informed as to the Inquisition’s powers.”

His lip curled, and the candle light caught on his golden mask. “We know what your ‘Inquisition’ truly is.” He stepped close to me and leaned in so I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “If you were a woman of honor, you’d step outside and answer the charges.”

He was leaning so close that I couldn’t help myself—I kissed the tip of the nose of his mask and batted my eyelashes. He took three quick steps back, reaching for his blade, but was suddenly frozen—literally. Ice bloomed across his chest like a spring flower.

“My dear Marquis,” a smooth, cultured voice said from the stairs above, “how unkind of you to use such language in my house…to my guests.” The ice spread, freezing him completely in place. Vivienne descended the stairs and all eyes were on her. Her outfit was impeccable—beautiful and elaborate, but tasteful—not overly gaudy; her mask was simple but powerful, exposing the bottom quarter or so of her face, including all of her well-shaped jaw. Her headpiece seemed to resemble curling dragon horns. In a word, she was elegance itself.

“You know such rudeness is…intolerable,” she finished, approaching the frozen young man.

“Madame Vivienne,” he managed to speak, but just barely, “I humbly beg your pardon!”

“You should,” she said, circling him as the other guests looked on in awe and entertainment. This was all part of everyday life here. How…exhausting. “Whatever am I to do with you, my dear?”

She turned abruptly, and looked at me. “My lady, you’re the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

“I think he’s learned his lesson,” I said, smiling at her.

“By the Grace of Andraste, you have your life my dear.” Vivienne reached out, touching his jaw gently, melting the ice and removing her spell. “Do be more careful with it.”

Once free, he nodded and slunk out. Vivienne turned to me once more, gazing at me seriously. “I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering. I’ve so wanted to meet you.”

She turned, motioned for me to follow, and led me to one of the many large windows overlooking the gardens. This one was open, allowing fresh air and the scent of flowers into the parlor. Clouds filled the sky above, blocking the noonday sun effectively.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” she said graciously. “I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court.”

I returned her small smile. “Your salon has certainly exceeded my expectations so far,” I said, switching my tone. She demanded respect, and she also demanded that I at least _attempt_ to ‘play the game.’ I could banter and hide my meaning behind pretty words.

“I’m glad to keep you entertained, my dear.” Her smile was polite, but did not touch her eyes. “I wanted to meet face to face. It is important to consider one’s connections carefully. With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

I was nearly bouncing on my toes with excitement. Oh my Creators, she was so fabulous and powerful. _Yes_! “The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne,” I said, managing to maintain my calm.

“Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that.”

I inclined my head, still smiling politely, not _too_ eager. She excused herself and promised to see me at Haven. I took that as my cue. I said goodbye to the two guests with whom I had mingled, so as not to be rude, and left the salon. My companions were waiting near the front entrance, Varric looking particularly displeased at having to stand outside.

“So?” Cassandra asked, falling in step beside me. “What did she say?”

I smiled, linking my hands behind my back as I had seen Solas do a thousand times. “We have a new agent for the Inquisition. And I have the very strong desire for a _bath_.”

 

**~**

 

It was everything I had hoped for. More for show than necessity, I had been given my own room—no matter how I protested it. Apparently, it wasn’t fit for the Herald to share a bed with one of her traveling companions. On the plus side, it afforded me absolute privacy. The room itself was somewhat small, about three-quarters the size of my cabin in Haven. It consisted almost entirely of bed, bureau and bathtub. Soaking in pink bubbles that smelled of rose and peony, I lamented that we were leaving so soon. Surely the horses weren’t fully recovered yet? Maybe I could convince Cassandra to stay one more night…

There came a knock at my door. Cassandra had mentioned earlier that she might stop by in order to get my requests for dinner, since my diet was so limited. Varric insisted on treating us all to a nice meal—not at the café, but at a restaurant known for its steak, apparently. They were going to have it delivered straight to us. I really needed to thank the dwarf for his thoughtfulness later.

“Come in!” I called, sinking a little lower into the bubbles for modesty’s sake—or at least a pretense at modesty; one of my legs was draped over the edge of the tub and was slowly dripping onto the marble floor. Oh, _nothing but the will of the Creators_ was getting me out of this tub.

“ _Lethallan_ , Cassandra desires to know what—” Solas stopped speaking when he saw me. His eyebrows rose and I let out a small shriek, slipped, collapsed fully into the bath in a spray of foam and water, surfaced gasping and covered in bubbles, one arm across my breasts.

“ _Fenedhis_ , Solas!” I quickly wiped the bubbles off of my face with my free hand, the other desperately clutching my chest. “I thought you were Cass!”

He tilted his head to the side, and it occurred to me that he had yet to look away. I felt my hear skip a beat and I had to remind myself to breathe.

“Clearly,” he replied, after a long moment.

“Are you _laughing_?” I demanded, and his responding smile was answer enough. Perhaps it wasn’t the most rational or _forgiving_ thing to do, but I sent a wave of the warm water at him, using magic to help it across the small room and splash him directly in the chest. He gasped softly in surprise, then threw back his head and laughed.

This fueled my anger further. “Stop laughing!” I demanded, aiming another wave at him. “It isn’t funny! I’m terrifying! Fear my rage for it is wrathful!” I struggled, the water level too low to send another splash at him, but I tried anyway and ended up slipping back into the water with a soft squeak, my legs going up above my head. I lay on my back, staring up at the bubbles through the water above me. You know, I am certain in a year or two I would find this hilarious. But at the moment, hearing his laughter _through_ the water, I was boiling.

I went limp, holding my breath. His laughter subsided. I heard a muffled, “ _Lethallan_?” He repeated the word twice, then I heard soft footfalls. I waited until I saw one of his hands on the edge of the tub and then I moved with speed that impressed even myself. I grabbed his arm quickly, and used the force of my weight to pull his torso into the bath with me. I may have been screaming something about the wrath of a titan being ferocious, followed by a war-cry. With an alarmed sound, he fell into the tub, slipping with me and ending up on his left hip, on top of me and soaking in the rose-scented water.

I cackled and wrapped my limbs around him, holding him hostage as he tried to right himself. “You’re caught in my net now!” I exclaimed, fiercely proud of myself for besting _Solas_ , when one of his hands, scrambling for purchase, found one of my breasts and it suddenly occurred to me that I was very, _very_ naked. I gasped and shoved him, pushing him towards the other end of the tub, my arms grabbing my shoulders, covering my bosom completely. I stared at my knees, eyes wide, unable to look at him.

His breathing was ragged, probably from surprise and having to work to right himself in such a…slippery situation.

“ _Ir abelas, lethallin_!” I finally managed to look up at him from under my eyelashes, hesitantly gauging his reaction. He was sprawled awkwardly in the tub, leaning against the other end, looking away and covering the lower half of his face. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said he was _blushing_. But such an idea was ludicrous; he wasn’t interested in me.

“ _Lethallin_?” I tried again, softly. I reached out, one arm managing both breasts now, and gingerly touched his knee. “ _Ir abelas_ —”

He jerked away from my touch, inhaling sharply. He stood so quickly I almost missed it, and was just as soon out of the tub, his back to me. I sat up, my stomach in knots.

“Solas, _please_ ,” I said, gripping the lip of the bath. He stopped, but did not turn around. I swallowed. “Will you…will you not even look at me?”

“I…” he started, then stopped. He shook his head, dripping onto the floor. “I _must not_ ,” he said softly, his voice terse, and just as quickly as he had come in, he was gone. I sank back into the remaining water, staring listlessly at the door he had just exited.

It wasn’t long before Cassandra came knocking. I was out of the tub by then, and wrapped fully in a large fluffy towel. She poked her head in when I asked who it was.

“Did Solas not come by? I asked him to get your order for dinner, but he has disappeared.”

I swallowed, not looking up. “I’ll just…I’ll have a salad. No meat. Thanks, Cass.”

“Will you be coming to the sitting room we share? I think Varric will be—”

“Not tonight,” I said, swallowing back the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry Cass.”

She was so quiet, I was almost sure she had left. But then she asked, “What happened?”

Shaking my head, I looked out my window at the growing twilight. “I was an idiot. I took his playfulness too far, and I think I really offended him.”

“Perhaps,” she began after a moment, “it is best to leave him be for now. Let him come to you, in his time.”

With a nod, I finally looked up and smiled at her. “That is excellent advice. Thank you, Cassandra.”

She nodded once, repeated my dinner order, and disappeared. A servant of the hotel delivered my salad to me an hour or so later, and I tipped her with one of the golden coins I had found on our adventuring. It was amazing how often people just…discarded full purses.

I ate, prepared for bed, and once again missed Fen fiercely as I curled up on the mattress. I hoped Leliana was taking good care of her, as she had promised to do. I closed my eyes tightly and did my best to _not_ think of Solas’ hand on my chest. It was…difficult. Eventually I gave up trying to resist, brought myself to orgasm, and was finally able to sleep after. No one met me in the Fade. Fen’Harel did not appear to relieve my sadness or frustration. I passed the night exploring the halls of the hotel from some time ago—perhaps when it was first established. Strangely, again I met no spirits. I was alone until Cassandra woke me at two—it was time to meet our mysterious criticizer, thanks to Red Jenny.

Exhausted still, and tired in my heart, I climbed out of bed. It was going to be a long day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ar lath ma. Ne’vhenas, ma’arlath. Ne’vehnan’ara. : You are my home, my love. You are my heart’s desire.
> 
> Masnavi : Not Elvhen--this is from Rumi's poem "Omar and the Old Poet." A masnavi is a type of poem written in rhyming couplets
> 
> In uthenera na revas, lethallan. : In waking sleep is freedom, kin. 
> 
> Enas! Dar in ma vhenan. : Appear! he— _implied_ —is in my heart.
> 
> Ma vir’vhenas. : My path home. 
> 
> I apologize that this chapter took me a little longer to get out. It's...well, it was difficult. And LONG.  
> Also, sorry if there are any typos! I didn't proof it. (sweats) I will tomorrow, but I wanted to get this out to you ASAP!


	8. An Unexpected Find

We found the location with relative ease. It was outside of some minor noble’s manor, not quite in the stables, but near. We had made the walk quickly; it was in the city. No one had spoken much, not wanting to spoil the element of surprise we hoped to have—but I could not help but notice that Solas kept a good five feet between us at all times, if not more. Which…hurt, if I was being honest. It had been a joke; I hadn’t meant to offend him. I suppose my intentions didn’t matter.

We snuck into the stables easily, and from there, rounded a corner where three mercenaries were waiting. Once the fighting began, a few more joined the fray, but we were able to dispatch them all with relative ease and quiet. I mounted the set of white marble stairs, and went through the next doorway. A man in a ridiculous mask was waiting for us. He lobbed a fireball at us, but it missed terribly. I turned to look at him, one eyebrow up. I was in _no mood for this shit_.

“Herald of Andraste! How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!”

My response was deadpan. “Who are you? Someone sent me a note reading that some _seth’lin_ was here, causing trouble. I was bored, so thought I’d stop by.”

He struck a dramatic pose, and I was momentarily distracted by the yellow tassels on his knees. “You don’t fool me! I’m too important for this to be an accident! My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!”

Out of nowhere, one of his hirelings was thrust forward, an arrow through his gullet. An elvhen woman stood, bow and arrow ready, her blonde hair hastily chopped, a quirky grin curving her lips. She took aim. “Just say ‘what!’”

The noble stomped his foot, turning to her. “What is the—”

The arrow flew and caught him right in the mouth. He made a gurgling noise and collapsed. I gasped and looked away, wincing at the bloody death.

“Eww!” the young woman groaned, making a face. She marched over to him and, as delicately as possible, retrieved her arrow. “Squishy one, but you heard me, right? ‘Just say “what.”’ Rich tits always try for more than they deserve.”

I approached her slowly, nodding to Cass that it was all right.

“‘Blah, blah, blah! Obey Me! Arrow in my face!’” She tugged and the arrow came free. She stood and smiled. “So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you’re…” she stopped, stared, and groaned. “Aaaand, you’re an elf. Well, hope you’re not ‘too elfy.’” At my expression, she continued hastily. “I mean, it’s all good, innit? The important thing is: You glow? You’re the Herald Thingy?”

I held up my hand. It glowed. I _hoped_ this was evidence enough. “There are some who call me that, though I try to correct them. I’m not Herald of anything. But who are you, and who _was_ this?”

“No idea!” she said cheerfully. “I don’t know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him.”

“You’re people,” I repeated, no inflection in my voice. “Clearly not elves. You seem to not like them.”

“Ha! No. _People-_ people. Name’s Sera. This is cover,” she said, motioning at a group of boxes. “Get ’round it.” She smirked, looking so pleased with herself. “For the reinforcements. Don’t worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches.”

I blinked at her slowly. “W…why didn’t you take their weapons?” I demanded as the mercenaries began pouring in, very much trouser-less.

“Because no _breeches_!” she said, laughing as she let an arrow loose.

“ _Fenedhis lasa_ ,” I exclaimed, freezing the nearest guard as Solas sent a fireball at him. I blinked at him, and smiled. He nodded back, then moved onto the next soldier.

The battle was over quickly, though with so much loss of life. It was…difficult. All these individuals had died for nothing. It was such a waste.

Sera approached me again, looking contemplative. It didn’t last long. “Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!” She laughed again. “So, Herald of Andraste,” I winced, “you’re a strange one. I’d like to join.” At my prodding, she took a moment to explain the concept of Red Jennies.

After a good solid minute of just staring, watching her make kissing noises at herself, I felt myself crack a smile. I shook my head, grinned, and looked skyward.

“I may regret this, but you’re in. In a few hours, once I’ve gotten at _least_ an hour more of sleep in,” I pointedly ignored Cassandra’s scoff, “we’re heading out to Haven. You can meet us by the gates and come with us. Traveling in a group is smarter than alone, especially through the Frostbacks.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed and did a small dance. “Get in good before you’re too big to like. That’ll keep your breeches where they should be. Plus extra breeches because I have all these…you have merchants who buy this pish, yeah? Got to be worth _something_.” She grinned and nodded. “Right. By the gates. See you there, Herald.”

“I’m not the,” I started, but she was already sprinting off, “…Herald,” I finished, lamely.

Ignoring Cassandra’s ardent protests—both about our new agent _and_ my desire for more sleep—I dragged my comrades back to the hotel. Varric gratefully said goodnight, but no one else said much. I stumbled into my room, yawned, and fell onto the bed. I slept until dawn crept into my window and the sun shone full on my face. It must have been at least seven in the morning. I hadn’t slept that late in what seemed like forever. Still tired, but much less so, I got out of bed, bathed quickly, and then nearly ran into Cassandra in the hallway.

“I was just on my way to waken you,” she said. I looked over her shoulder; Solas was there, looking as he always did (handsome), and Varric was yawning beside him, his small half-ponytail messier than usual. We exited the hotel together, and made our way through the market. People were setting up stalls, preparing for the morning business. I nearly tripped over my own feet when I saw it, lying innocuously on a table, next to what looked like some secondhand wares. I stopped, gripping the edge of the table.

“How much for this?” I asked, touching the fabric reverently.

“That? That, my Dalish friend, is said to have been worn by the Empress’ second-cousin, twice removed, at last summer’s grand ball,” the stallkeep said, Orlesian accent thick. “It is worth at least twenty gold pieces.”

“I’ll give you five, and that’s a stretch as it is,” I said, not buying that story for a second, and not caring regardless. The Holiest of Holies could have worn it and it wouldn’t have mattered; it was _the_ dress. The lace was just slightly different, but otherwise…it was identical. I had to have it.

“Sold!” he said, happy as I counted over the pieces.

“Herald?” Cassandra called impatiently, only just realizing I had fallen behind. I tucked the dress into the bag I wore on my belt, and smiled at her.

“Coming!”

Sera was there at the gates, waiting for us. She was carrying a rather large bag, and when prompted, I discovered that was, indeed, the bag of breeches. And yes, she intended to carry it all the way to Haven—none of the merchants here had been interested in purchasing it. At the stables where we had kept our horses, Sera attempted to barter with the local horsemaster to trade the bag for one of his mules.

He was not amused.

We purchased a fine gelding from him, and this was given to our new travel-mate. She and Varric traded stories about killing people with arrows, mostly, and I asked Cassandra if I could read the next installation from the Calloway series. She obliged, and managed to wrestle the thing out of her side bag without upsetting her horse. She even agreed to hold my reins so I could read; I think she just wanted me to finish so we could talk about it, which was fine by me. It would keep my mind off of Solas on top of me, his hand grazing my breast—or what I had done to Fen’Harel the last time I wore…

I cleared my throat and refocused on the book.

The week back passed much the same; Varric and Sera chatted; Cass and I talked about books, and sometimes Solas tried to engage Sera in questions about elves—which she did not appreciate in the slightest. She was very anti-elf for an elf. Yet, whenever I tried to ask Solas a question, he would answer as tersely or quickly as possible. He did not sit near me when we ate at night, and slept as far from me as he could.

I tried not to let that break my heart. I told myself that it wasn’t me. It was just my imagination.

If I said it enough, I’d eventually believe it.

Needless to say, it was a relief when we finally made it back to Haven. It was evening, too late to have a meeting with the council, so I went straight to my cabin, Fen on my mind. There she was, waiting for me. It was as if she knew I was there—she began howling as I mounted the rough-hewn stairs towards my room. Exhausted as I was, I broke into a run, flung the door open and then tackled her in a hug. In two weeks, she was so much _larger_. She was starting to fill out and gain muscle—and she was moving on her own so well now. The leg was no different from any of her others. I held her and tried not to cry as she nuzzled into my neck. At least _someone_ was happy to see me.

“Have you been cooped up in here the whole time?” I asked, running my fingers through her shaggy fur. It didn’t matter how tired I was—Fen needed to go for a run. “Come on; let’s go.”

As I held the door open for her, I noted that it had indeed been fixed. I didn’t feel badly at all about walking through Haven with Fen; Cullen had done a good job clearing people out. There were soldiers and some scouts, mingling with Leliana’s agents, but no civilians—no hapless victims waiting to be murdered by…by… _what was his name_?

That didn’t matter—not right now. All that mattered was letting Fen use that leg. We made it to the first set of stairs and then Fen couldn’t hold back. She took off like the north wind. I laughed, feeling the joy pumping through her veins, and went after her. I had to squeeze through a small group of people clustered near the entrance, looking after Fen as she had darted past their legs. Someone called my name, but I didn’t look back. _Running_! I hadn’t moved like this—well, since I could remember. Fen was ahead of me, outpacing me by far, but not so far ahead that I lost track. When she veered, I did too—I knew when she changed direction without thinking. My feet covered every third or fourth of her paw prints—my stride was simply longer. We circled the lake. My breath was harsh in my lungs, the air bracing and stinging on my face. It made me laugh again. I lost my jacket somewhere along the way.

Once at the far side of the lake, Fen let me catch up to her. She stopped on a small overhang that looked over the frozen lake. Stars were beginning to come out, for the sun had set maybe an hour ago. She looked at me as I jogged up, winded but grinning. When I reached her side, she tossed her head back and howled. I wanted to do the same; I wanted to call up to the moon. But I couldn’t howl the way she did; not in this body. So I contented myself to stare up at that pale orb as she rose high, and to sing softly to myself, and to my Fen.

“Her eyes and words are so icy / Oh but she burns / Like rum on the fire / Hot and fast and angry / As she can be / I walk my days on a wire / It looks ugly, but it's clean / Oh Mama, don't fuss over me / The way she tells me I'm hers and she’s mine / Open hand or closed fist would be fine / The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine / Calls of guilty thrown at me / All while she stains the sheets of some other / Thrown at me so powerfully / Just like she throws with the arm of her brother / But I want it, it's a crime / That she's not around most of the time / Her fight and fury’s fiery / Oh but she loves / Like sleep to the freezing / Sweet and right and merciful / I'm all but washed in the tide of her breathing / And it's worth it, it's divine / I have this _some_ of the time / Way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine / Open hand or closed fist would be fine / The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.”

Fen had grown quiet by the time I finished. I half-expected her to be looking at me, but she was staring behind us, back into the darkness of the trees. I saw nothing out of the ordinary—a few sprigs of elfroot, popping up in the snow against all odds; there was some iron ore, but nothing stirring. No animal’s breath troubled our air this far from the village’s wooden walls. I knelt beside my friend, and gently tugged on one of her ears to get her attention. She looked at me sideways.

“Do you see something?” I asked. She panted softly, and looked back into the night. I ruffled her head and then patted her haunches. “Go. Go get it.”

She was gone before I could blink. I smiled and shook my head. I waited a moment or two, and took off after her—but at a much more sedated pace. The week of travel had been long, and I was tired. I caught up to her relatively quickly. She had stopped and was standing between two trees, sitting with her head cocked to the side, her ears perked. I halted beside her and knelt down again, the snow soaking into the leather of my trousers. I realized for the first time that it was getting to be a little cold, and I was beginning to feel _quite_ tired.

“What’s going on, Fen?”

She looked up at me and her tail did one small flop. I grinned and pressed my forehead to her own. “Did you just feel like one more sprint—?”

“I believe she smelled me.”

I let out a small scream and flung myself away from the sound, casting Fade Step at the same time. This was my second time in recent history of ending up in a snowbank in front of Solas, and by _gum_ , it was going to be the last!

Fen got to me first, and started trying to dig me out with little success. But Solas appeared beside her was able to pull me out with little effort.

“I get jumpy when I’m tired,” I said, trying to brush the snow off of me before it melted _too_ much. I thought by his expression that he was doing his best not to smile. Of course, that could have been my own insecurities acting up and reading far too much into his demeanor.

“I see,” was all he said in response. As he tried to help dust me off, I pushed him away, glowering.

“I don’t need help—especially not from someone who’s _laughing_ at me.”

“Of course,” he conceded expressionlessly, stepping back. “But perhaps night is not the best time to run in the snow without warm clothing.”

“I _had_ a jacket,” I countered, then added, somewhat bashfully, “I just don’t know what happened to it.”

His eyebrows rose. The moonlight shone down upon us and his eyes, I swear they glowed like stars in the darkness of the night. He removed the pack her wore on his back and opened it. He drew out my short coat, and held it out to me.

“You flung it at my face as you were running,” he said, still expressionless, probably trying not to laugh _again_. “I tried to call after you, but you did not heed me.”

My eyes grew wide as I looked down and took the jacket. So that had been _him_. I was going to apologize, but something in his pack caught my eye. I dropped the coat and grabbed his arm as he went to close the bag. Rather rude, I must admit. I looked up at him, somewhat stunned.

“Is that my flower?”

His eyes widened slightly, but otherwise he did not react. He dropped to a knee, picked up my coat and draped it over my shoulders. “Please do not ignore your health, Fen.”

“ _Is that my flower_?” I repeated, allowing him to place the article about me.

The apostate finally looked me in the eye. He nodded, and pulled the flower, untarnished by age or wear, not even bruised, from his satchel. He held it out to me; it glowed like starlight. I swallowed hard, gingerly touching one of the petals. Soft and oddly warm.

“I made that,” I whispered. “I thought it into being.”

“You…” he was staring now, his focus honing in on me like a beam of light through a magnifying glass. “That is not possible. You did not merely transform a pre-existing flower? You created it _with thought_?”

“Yes,” I said, dropping my hand as I blinked up at him. “Why? Is that impossible?”

“Because this is not the Fade,” he said tersely, putting the flower back into his bag. “That explains why I could not identify its composition. I have spent countless nights analyzing it with no success. You are a mystery, Fen; one I cannot possibly hope to solve.”

My throat was suddenly tight. It was hard for me to meet his eye, so I looked at Fen sitting beside me so patiently, watching the night with her keen eyes.

“You haven’t called me _lethallan_ since that afternoon.”

Obliquely, I saw him tense. He relaxed so quickly I thought for a moment perhaps I had imagined it—but no, he _had_ reacted.

“I have realized that I have been overly-familiar with you. It was a mistake that will not happen again.” His voice wasn’t cold exactly, but distant. He was far away.

I dragged a hand through my hair. I said nothing. I couldn’t. I couldn’t speak. If I did, he would tell that I was on the verge of tears. Overly-familiar…was that what I was? _Overly_ -familiar? I nodded, tried to take a breath, but it came out ragged. Fen growled beside me, not meanly, more…concerned. I couldn’t look at her either.

My nodding quickly turned to shaking of my head. I took a step back, then another, gripping the edges of my coat tightly.

“Fen—” he began, then stopped, unsure what to say. Solas speechless—that was a first. I almost laughed. Another step. “Fen,” he tried again, more firmly.

I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Something else to break my heart, I was sure. I turned and ran—no, that was wrong. I positively _flew_. My feet barely seemed to touch the snow. Fen was beside me, had taken off the moment I had. We paced each other, side by side, and did not slow down until the gates were in sight. I dropped to a jog, my lungs burning, my sides positively on _fire_. But then I saw Varric. He was waving to me, and I felt my eyes fill with tears. I shook my head again and once more sprinted. I ran into my room and slammed the door behind Fen. I collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. The wolf sat beside me, nudging my cheek with her nose. I draped my arms around her, trying desperately to breathe.

It took too long for me to get my breath under control, longer for my heart rate to drop. I fell asleep there, against the door. I had half-hoped that Solas might follow me, might knock on the door and apologize. It didn’t happen. Nothing greeted me when I woke but a kink in my neck and Fen’s warmth across my legs. I was so sore.

Fen grunted and made sleepy growls when I moved her. I cleaned myself and changed, then told Fen she could go back to sleep as I stepped out. She didn’t listen. Instead, she yawned and trotted after me, not leaving my side. She was right, of course—two weeks had been too long to be without her. I walked with my hand on her head, aiming for Leliana’s work tent. The sun was just rising and glittering in the sky, its perfection marred only by the swirling, turbulent Breach. Of course, it too was beautiful, in its own way.

My spymaster friend was talking to one of her scouts. My stomach instantly knotted. She was telling him to kill one of his fellows who had turned out to be a traitor. I braced myself with a deep breath. It was going to take a good deal of convincing to get her to change her mind.

It did, in fact, take a _good_ deal. But I was able to do it. Leliana…she was still there. Her idealism wasn’t entirely dead yet. When I left the tent, Cassandra was waiting for me by the Chantry.

“Herald,” she said, striding up to me with purpose. “We need to discuss our next move. Come; the others are waiting in the War Room.”

Lels walked past us and into the Chantry. I watched her go, trying to be happy. One life saved. That was worth so much. I nodded to Cass, and together, we entered the Andrastrian place of worship. We didn’t even make it to the War Room—Josie was waiting for us there, in the center hall.

“It’s good you’ve returned. We heard of your encounter.”

Cassandra looked taken aback. “You heard?”

Leliana stood beside Cullen. She looked noticeably less perturbed than she had earlier; that was good. “My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course.”

Cullen folded his arms across his breastplate, his brows lightly furrowed. “It’s a shame the templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, and Fen at my side brushed against my knees. I smiled down at her, my heart lifting. “At least we know how to approach the mages and templars now,” I said.

“Do we?” Cass challenged. “Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.”

The group of Advisors turned, almost in unison, and began to walk towards the room at the back where we could continue this discussion with a modicum of privacy.

“True,” Leliana agreed. “He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been…very odd.”

“We _must_ look into it,” Cullen said. “I’m certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker.”

“Or,” Josie said, looking directly at Cullen, “the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead.”

Cullen scoffed. “You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse!”

“Well, whatever we do,” I put in, touching one of Fen’s ears to keep me calm, “we need to do it soon.”

“I agree,” Cassandra said, inclining her head.

“We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk.”

“They are powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate than you realize.” That was Cass all over—she had such a hard time trusting magic. With her years of work as a Seeker, I supposed it was understandable. Or at least I tried to tell myself that.

“So it’ll be dangerous,” I said around a sigh. “I’ve been in danger since I walked out of the Fade.”

Cass turned to look at me. “If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave…”

“The same could be said about the templars,” Josephine countered. Josie was quickly becoming my hero.

“True enough,” Cullen said, surprising me. “Right now, I’m not certain we have enough influence to approach the Order safely.”

“Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places.” Our Seeker turned to me. “That’s something you can help with.”

“I’ll do all I can,” I conceded.

“In the meantime,” Josephine continued, “we should consider other options.”

I nodded, then we exchanged goodbyes, but Leliana lingered. She approached me slowly, almost cautiously. Well, she was always cautious, so I supposed that wasn’t _truly_ a surprise.

“There is one other matter.” At my motion, she continued. “Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn’t even consider the idea they’re involved in all this, but the timing is…curious.”

My eyebrows shot up. “No kidding.”

She smiled slightly. “The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I cannot ignore it. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease.”

“I hope so,” I said, looking down at Fen. Her ears perked and she cocked her head.

“If not, then there may be more going on than we thought.”

I sighed. “We’ll set out tomorrow.”

“You may take a few days, Herald. That was a long journey.”

I shook my head, rubbing the back of my neck. Fen pushed her head against my free hand and I smiled, petting her. “No, it’s all right. I would rather stay…busy.”

Leliana inclined her head respectfully. “Then I understand. Very well; I shall inform the others.”

“Wait,” I said suddenly, stopping her when she would have walked away. “Tell Solas to stay here. To—to research about the Grey Wardens. Maybe he can find a connection between them and the Fade. If anyone could, it would be him. I will take Sera and Vivienne in addition to Cass and Varric. Just…just not Solas.”

“A smaller party _will_ move faster,” she said after a moment. “Are you certain this is what you want? There are others who could do this research.”

I nodded, unable to meet her eye. I was too ashamed of myself, of my weakness. “I’m sure. Thank you, Lels.”

She seemed surprised by the name, but quietly nodded and disappeared. With a heavy heart, I exited the peaceful building. There was a young man waiting for me outside the Chantry. He was shifting foot to foot, trying to get someone—anyone’s attention. I smiled. I knew this young man; he was of a good sort. What was his name? Cremi…Krem?

The first thing I noticed about him, aside from his eager yet serious expression, was his armor. It was so _big_. I wondered how he could stand in it, let alone move about with ease as he seemed to be doing. He and Commander Cullen—more muscle than any man had a right to.

“Excuse me,” he said, polite but authoritative, “I’ve got a message for the Inquisition, but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.”

I smiled at him, and Fen sat beside me, looking up at him with her big eyes. He glanced down and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Nice dog.”

My smile spread into a grin and I folded my arms across my chest. “What’s your message, ser? Maybe I can help.”

“We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast,” he said succinctly, no preamble, no pussyfooting about. “My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I cannot wait. I am leaving for the Hinterlands tomorrow, so we may be a bit delayed, but expect us soon.”

His eyes flicked briefly to my hand, and I wiggled my fingers at him. “Want me to take the glove off so you can see it?”

“No, not at all, I just…” he leaned back slightly, his posture still perfect, watching me. “I didn’t expect the ‘Herald of Andraste’ to be so…”

“Elf-y?” I supplied helpfully, still smiling.

“Smiley,” he finished. At my laugh, he smiled. “We’re the best you’ll find, ser. Come to the Storm Coast, and you can see us in action.”

I held out my hand to shake. He took it after only a second of hesitation; perhaps he was expecting an electric shock, but once he realized nothing would happen, he gave me a satisfying squeeze. I nodded to him.

“Nice to have met you…?” I trailed off.

“Cremisius Aclassi. See you at the Storm Coast.”

I watched him go, feeling a little happier than before—but something was…I felt someone _staring_ at me. Hesitating, I turned to my left and saw Solas walking towards me with a _very_ determined expression. Leliana was a few paces behind him, looking both interested and amused. She had, presumably, just told him my plans to keep him here while I took literally everyone else with me. In hindsight, maybe not my brightest moment. Whistling a tune, I turned tail and fled, walking as quickly as I could without seeming suspicious. When I heard his exasperated, “ _Fen_!” from behind, that walk rapidly turned into a sprint.

I was halfway down the first flight of steps when a rune of paralysis appeared beneath me. I tried to stop myself from stepping down on it, but Fen accidentally bumped me and I slipped onto my bottom, landing hard on the rune. I froze, and a feeling of both panic and embarrassment welled up within me. Well. _Fenedhis_. This was my life, in a nutshell.

Solas calmly walked up beside me, just as the rune’s effects were wearing off. I sighed and looked up at him, his head outlined by the rays of the sun. There was no better metaphor for how I felt; he was beautiful, _hot_ , and fucking inescapable. Maybe blinding, too.

“Are you done?” he asked, his tone cool but, if I hadn’t known better (and I _didn’t_ , not really), I would have said he was amused. “You can be most undignified sometimes.” He offered a hand to me. I scowled at him, and used Fen as a lever instead, standing up and rubbing my tailbone.

“That hurt, I’ll have you know,” I said, ignoring the gleam in his eye. Undignified. Huff!

“My apologies, but I did not think I could outmatch your speed. You are considerably younger than I.”

“You’re pretty fucking spry, _hahren_ ; don’t sell yourself short.” I rubbed my backside, smiling at Fen to reassure her when she let out a soft whine of concern.

“I will not be staying behind while you go traipsing off into danger,” he said without preamble.

I rubbed the back of my neck, sighing. Was I getting a migraine? I think I was. Maybe a tension headache. I squinted at him, still haloed by the sun. “You can’t make anything easy for me, can you?”

He looked taken aback: the slightest raise of his eyebrows, a downward turn of his upward-inclining mouth. “You must learn to put your feelings aside and focus on the task at hand. While I have no intention of making your life difficult, I cannot allow you to face dangers alone.”

I ran my fingers through Fen’s fur, the feel of her grounding me. I took a deep breath. “I won’t _be_ alone, though. I’ll have everyone else. I need to know more about what this Breach could be—I could use more research. You are better suited than anyone—”

“ _Excuses_!” he snapped, surprising me. “I have told you all we know at current about the Breach. No book or ancient tome will have more information, more ‘research.’”

“That doesn’t negate the fact that I _won’t be alone_ —”

“You will be without _me_ ; how will I know that you are not mishandling some spell, or walking into a trap? You use Fade Step at the slightest provocation; you can barely manage a _horse_ on your own, and you expect me to sit idly by, _reading_ , while you are off, potentially firing yourself off a cliff because a _noise scared you_?”

I inhaled sharply through my nose, my eyes wide and suddenly stinging. “You think so little of me? You think that I can’t manage without you there to make sure I don’t _walk off of a cliff_?”

“Fen!” he said, exasperated. “You cast spells in your sleep, most of which I have to negate before they catch your tent _on fire_. No, I do not think you can go a week without me.”

I stared at him, sorrow and rage warring in my chest in equal measure. I could feel my cheeks growing hot. Fen beside me growled softly, her hackles rising. I touched her gently, letting her know to back down. I looked up at Solas, my eyes burning. “I don’t _need_ you,” I said, my tone acerbic. “I don’t _need_ anyone who looks at me like I am some cub to be scolded and cuffed. I don’t need a _parent_.”

“Yes,” he countered, looking just as impassioned as I felt, “you do. If you cannot work beside someone with whom you are infatuated, then clearly you need to mat—”

“You think I’m _infatuated_ with you?” I said, somewhat aghast. “You think I have some sort of girlish _crush_ on you, don’t you?” I shook my head, disbelief mystifying me. “I cannot deal with this right now. I just can’t. I’m _not a child_ ,” I said, finally making eye contact with him again. I shook my head, my gaze boring into his own. “I’m not. I’m not some little girl you need to protect. I’m a fully grown woman, capable of making her own decisions and more than capable of knowing when she is in love with someone. And I am; I’m in love with you. _You_ may not want to see or admit that, but it’s true.”

Beside me, Fen snorted her agreement. I looked down at her, finally breaking the hold I had on him, and he on me.

“You have little to no knowledge of me—”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “ _You_ barely know _me_ —less than I thought you did, _lethallin_.” I stepped down the last few stairs, then paused, looking back at him. His face was closed, as it so often was. Guarded. “Come, if you must, but I wish you wouldn’t. You’re right that I have a hard time separating myself from my emotions. I will worry about you. I will want to be near you. I will be heartbroken each time you reject me. But I will live. And I _damned_ well do not _need_ you.”

Fen sat still on the steps, her head cocked. Her ears perked when I looked at her, and her tail did a half-wag. I motioned for her to follow me. She would not. She woofed softly, and blew air at me quietly. My chest grew tight.

“ _Traitor_ ,” I whispered as I turned, walking back to my cabin. I couldn’t look at him.

I thought about sitting in my room and reading by myself, but I was tired of being by myself. I found Varric, and we talked about Hawke for at least an hour. We shared a meal, and he had me laughing in next to no time. After that, I went to see Cassandra. We talked briefly, but she was not one for small talk—especially when I had yet to finish the latest installment of the Duke Calloway serial. Instead, she did some basic sparring with me, training me on very, _very_ remedial aspects of self-defense. Cullen joined in, critiquing my technique—and I was happy to see Lyrianna was beside him while he did so. She stood _awfully_ close to him, and I could tell he was incredibly aware of the distance between them. And then Cassandra was launching me over her shoulder, and being air-born was _so amazing_ until I landed in the snowbank and was suddenly so very cold.

It was twilight by the time I was heading back to my cabin. I was somewhat abashed to find Fen gone still. It wasn’t truly a surprise though; I knew exactly where she was.

I found them sitting together, watching the sunset. He was idly running his fingers through her fur, his focus somewhat glazed, distracted. If I didn’t know better, I would have said he didn’t notice my approach, but that was silly. He was very much aware of everything around him.

“You’ve stolen my wolf,” I accused.

“Borrowed,” he corrected, looking down at her as she contentedly gnawed on some sort of bone. So she had already eaten dinner; that was good to know. “She is still very much _your_ wolf. But she has kept me company when I needed it, and for that I am grateful.”

I watched him as he stroked her ears gently. I swallowed the lump in my throat and my pride in one fell swoop. “ _Ir abelas_ ,” I said softly, my hands suddenly so very interesting as they twisted the hem of my tunic. “I was needlessly cruel to you earlier. I do not expect you to…to know me well, or to understand anything about me. I know we have not known each other long, and I have thrown so much at you; it was unfair of me and I—”

A hand on my chin— _his_ hand—stopped my speaking. He tilted my jaw up until I met his eye. I hadn’t even heard him stand or move to me. My heart skipped a beat to be so close to him.

“Please do not apologize, not to me. You were correct to chastise me,” he said, releasing me and taking a step back. “You do not need someone to watch over your shoulder. You are more than capable of taking care of yourself. If you wish me to stay, I shall.”

I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t want you to stay. I want you to be near all the time; that’s the problem. No,” I corrected with a shake of my head, “it isn’t a problem. It’s just what I have to deal with. But come, please. No one gives better advice, and no one helps me up out of a snowbank better than you—as I just learned, nary thirty minutes ago.”

He smiled and threaded his fingers through mine. Did he understand that doing that made my heart jump? That it made me want to leap with joy? I did everything I could to keep my breathing even. He squeezed my hand once and then released me. He walked a few steps back to his perch.

“I shall go, then. I would rather be by your side than languishing here, poring over the same three tomes—the _only_ tomes the Inquisition has on the Fade and the Ancient Elvhen.”

“Good. We ride at dawn. Sleep well, Solas.”

“ _Dareth shiral_ ,” he replied.

This time, when I walked away, Fen came with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this one is so short--only 6,700 words! I was out of town over the weekend, and didn't get as much done as I had wanted. New characters are pouring in, and I promise, we will get to Skyhold by the end of the next chapter--which means it will be a doozy, and so may take a little over a week.  
> Also, prepare yourself and gird thy loins for the return of smut! Hope you enjoyed your brief vacation from it, but it will be back with a vengeance. >:)


	9. A Party Completed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves...it's 27.6k words.

The next morning came too quickly, yet again. It wasn’t even _technically_ morning—nighttime until the sun was up, which it very much was not when Cassandra banged on my door to rouse me.

“Fen, we are leaving. Prepare,” she called through the door.

Fen, somewhere down by my feet beneath the covers, growled in protest. It took a few minutes, but we managed to get out of bed. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. Fen trotted beside me, yawning widely at the cold air when it hit us. Apparently it didn’t have quite the same effect on her as it did on myself. Varric met me half-way to the front gates, and he looked just as exhausted as I felt.

“Did we have to leave _today_ , Sun-Blossom? We just got back.”

I grinned at him, well, as close to a grin as I could manage. “There is much to be done. We need to investigate the Grey Wardens disappearing; we need to go to the Storm Coast—”

I stopped in my tracks. I hadn’t told anyone to scout ahead. I slapped my forehead and groaned. “ _Fenedhis_ ,” I muttered under my breath. Varric looked at me, one eyebrow up, a small smile quirking his lips.

“Forget something there, Blossom?”

I nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “Yes. Tell Cass I’ll be right there—I just need to go wake up Leliana quickly.”

“Good luck,” he called after me as I turned, jogging in the other direction. “I wouldn’t want to risk getting on _that_ woman’s bad side. It isn’t even dawn, after all.”

That…was a very good point, and one I should have thought about last night, before going to bed. Too late for that. It took a good twenty minutes of hunting and waking up the wrong people before I found where Leliana slept. She was _not_ happy to be awake, but also didn’t seem like she was going to murder me over it, so that was, at least, something? Her short red hair was tussled, and there were circles beneath her eyes as she stared at me mutely as I asked for her to send Scout Harding ahead to the Storm Coast, and that we would be following up after our trip to the Hinterlands.

When I finally made it to the horses, _no one_ seemed particularly happy. Cass wanted to know why I had delayed departure; Sera wanted to know why I was dragging her along when another rogue was already _going_ and so was it _really_ necessary for her to be out of bed _right this minute_ ; Varric demanded to know that if Sera stayed, could he as well; Vivienne wanted to know why a wolf was accompanying us, and would it be one of our _permanent_ companions, and was I absolutely certain it did not have fleas, and oh, she was almost positive she could smell it from even several feet. The only one who remained quiet was Solas, and while I had wished he would be more social with me, at the very least he _wasn’t complaining_.

Dawn was streaking pink and purple across the sky as we finally departed. No one was happy. I felt somewhat abashed making them leave so soon after arrival—especially without having even bothered to stop by and see Sera and Vivienne to welcome them to the Inquisition—but we had to do _so much_. Sighing, I trailed behind the others, letting Fen stretch her legs for a bit. More out of boredom and the desire to keep myself awake than anything else, I sang softly to myself. If I closed my eyes between verses and focused, I could recall the lines to _Hallelujah_ perfectly now.

Solas glanced back at me over his shoulder once or twice, and it made me wonder if he could hear me. So I sang all the more quietly, not wanting to be a bother so early. Otherwise, we rode in silence for several hours. Eventually, Sera roped Varric into a hypothetical situation involving a bronto, a Qunari, and several yards of twine. I managed to tune them out for the most part, focusing instead on the beauty of the scenery. I swore, if I closed my eyes and breathed deeply enough, I could feel the trees whispering to each other.

“If trees could talk,” I interrupted suddenly, “what do you think they would say?”

“Probably wonder why you ask such thick questions,” Sera countered, not missing a beat. I blinked, a little startled by the caustic remark, then burst out laughing. I nodded, wiping a tear from my eye.

“Yeah, probably.”

I don’t think she expected me to laugh at that—so her smile was a little slow to come, but come it did.

“Why don’t we ask our elven apostate friend?” Vivienne queried, innocently enough. “He looks as if he has spent considerable time with…trees.”

“That I have,” he said placidly. “Dreaming beneath a tree is, perhaps, preferable to the company of those who would spend their time indulging in ridiculous fashions.”

“Are you implying that my sense of fashion is ridiculous?”

“Implying? No; I’m stating it directly.”

I ran a hand over my face and breathed deeply, counting to five. “Okay, children, enough. I’m sorry I said anything. By the Dread Wolf,” I muttered, shaking my head. “My mistake. My sodding mistake.”

Thank goodness the first stint of our trip was only going to take a day and a half.

Unfortunately, it proved the longest day and a half that I had experienced. Sleeping arrangements had been…interesting. It proved to be like handling toddlers: as soon as one person was happy, another was crying over _something else_. I was beyond relieved when we reached the camp by Lake Luthias the following midday. Blackwall—the mysterious Grey Warden we were seeking—was going to be very close by. Our horses we had left at a stable in the crossroads, and we took some time to unpack our things at camp before heading up towards the lake.

It was still so beautiful here; the grasses were green, trees were just beginning to change color, and poppies mingled with blood lotus beside the lake itself. The nearer we got to the lake, the more clearly I could hear a deep voice, booming out commands. Crossing the rickety wooden bridge towards the cabin we had passed during our first visit, I made out, “They will make this a fight, not us.”

It was a human man, on the shorter side, clearly broad of chest and thick of beard. Creators, that _beard_. Overwhelming. How did he eat through it? Didn’t he worry about catching crumbs…? I was snapped out of my thoughts by Vivienne clearing her throat rather pointedly. I cast her an apologetic smile, and finished crossing the bridge. Blackwall was standing with a few recruits, and looked to be teaching them to wield a sword. Blackwall…Blackwall…no, the name, well, it just didn’t _suit_ him I supposed.

“Line there,” he was saying to one of the young men. “And there. No gaps.” He paced before them, his shield ready on his arm. “Remember how to carry your shields! You’re not hiding, you’re holding. Otherwise it’s useless!”

“Blackwall?” I ventured tentatively. “Warden Blackwall?”

He turned abruptly. “You’re not—How did you know my name? Who sent…” he trailed off, the sound of shouting drowning him out. An arrow flew, and he caught it with his shield effortlessly. His reaction time was good, to say the very least. “That’s it,” he said harshly, looking at me behind his shield. “Help or get out. We’re dealing with these idiots first!” He turned away from me, and back to his men. “Conscripts! Here they come!”

The battle began quickly and in earnest. I spun to face the mercenary who had fired an arrow in my direction, only to find that Solas had frozen him and was in the process of shattering him with a blow from the blade on his staff. I winced as the man’s body crumbled, and tried to focus. I threw up an ice barrier, blocking one of Blackwall’s cadets from being flanked.

“I wasn’t here to fight!” the Warden cried, slamming his shield into one of the attackers. “Stop and think!”

No one seemed to—the mercenaries kept coming until they were all defeated. It was a fast battle; there had only been a handful of assailants. I leaned heavily on my staff, surveying the death. Wasn’t it supposed to get easier? Why did my heart hurt _this_ much, each time?

Perhaps Blackwall felt the same. He threw his sword down and knelt by one of the fallen. He squatted over him, and I couldn’t tell if he was praying or simply being respectful.

“Sorry bastards,” he said to himself.

I agreed. I needed a hand. I held out my hand, trusting one of my companions would take it. One did. I looked back and smiled slightly at Varric as he gave me a small squeeze.

“Good work, Conscripts,” Blackwall said as he rose and walked back to his men, “even if this shouldn’t have happened. They could’ve—well, thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves.” He gestured back towards their homes. His conscripts said nothing; they simply gathered their weapons and turned to leave. I gave Varric one last squeeze, then approached Blackwall again.

“You’re no farmer,” he said, taking note either of my armor or how I had handled myself in battle. That or the fact that I had a group of five well-armed individuals at my back. You know, something tipped him off. “Why do you know my name? Who are you?”

I tried not to sigh. “I’ve been called a lot of things by a _lot_ of people. Suffice it to say, I’m with the Inquisition.” At the raise of his eyebrows, I continued. “We’re investigating whether missing Wardens are involved in the Divine’s death.”

“Maker’s balls,” he cursed. “The Wardens and the Divine? That can’t—no, you’re asking, so you don’t really know.” He shook his head, pacing back and forth in front of me. “First off, I didn’t know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I’ll tell you: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn’t political.”

I looked after the men who had just departed, then back to the Warden. “And does the purpose have to do with arming men— _farmers—_ and throwing them at bandits?”

“This was different,” he said, somewhat defensively. “I was in the area recruiting. Fought some demons, then I heard about the stealing.” He straightened his shoulders. “Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need. Who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I ‘conscripted’ their victims.” He raised his chin. “They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won’t need me.” He closed his eyes, really thinking through his next words. “Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are.”

I nodded. “I agree whole heartedly, but why are you still here, Warden Blackwall? Why haven’t you gone missing like the rest of your fellows?”

“Well, maybe I was going to,” he replied flippantly. “Or maybe there’s a new directive, but a runner got lost or something. _My_ job was to recruit on my own. Planned to stay that way for months. Years.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. I swore tension headaches were becoming the norm for me. “Well, thanks for that. But where does that leave us?” I sighed, looked to Cassandra and nodded. She turned, beginning to lead our group back to our camp. Blackwall waited a beat, and I could feel his eyes on me, then,

“Inquisition…agent, did you say? Hold a moment.” He walked to catch up to me. “The Divine is dead, and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we’re absent is almost as bad as thinking we’re involved. If you’re trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.”

A smile tugged at my lips. I was glad he had decided to join us—Blackwall, I could tell, was a good man. “Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer.”

“Good to hear,” he said, though he didn’t return my smile. “We both need to know what’s going on, and perhaps I’ve been keeping to myself for too long.” He nodded once, firmly. “This Warden walks with the Inquisition.”

“Good. We’ve made camp just below the lake. You’re free to join us, or to make your way back to Haven at your own speed.”

“If you’re going back to Haven, you’re taking me with you,” Sera said flatly, her arms folded across her chest. “You do not need me to drag my sorry arse all the way up to the Storm Coast. Cor, I don’t think you need anyone but the king of the elves here. Did you see how fast he jumped when that arrow nearly gobbed you? Psh, sot didn’t have a chance.”

“I did not,” I said, pretending to be calm when suddenly my heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. Store that bit of information away for later usage.

“I assume by ‘king of the elves’ that you are referencing myself? I simply reacted as you all should have,” Solas countered, much to my chagrin. “If Fen is injured, it could leave all of Thedas at stake.”

Well, there went my fantasies of being somehow important to my fellow elf.

“Maker’s balls!” Blackwall exclaimed, looking me once over. “You’re _her_?” He sized me up, then shook his head. “I have to admit, I thought you’d be…”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Human?”

“Yes,” he said flatly.

I shrugged, no longer hiding my smile. “At least you’re honest.”

“It was a foolish thought. Should’ve known better than to say anything,” he muttered, not meeting my eye. I smiled at him again and shook my head.

“It’s fine, Blackwall. Now come; walk with us.”

“It isn’t fine,” he said, though he did gather his sword and some of his goods. “It’s what you do, and how you do it, that’s important.” He sheathed his weapon and fell in step just behind me as we once more crossed the bridge. “Just one question, then. How do you think you fit in with all…” he motioned upwards at the Breach, “this?”

“I’m stopping the war,” I said simply. “I’m going to put things back in order, if I can.” I paused, and tilted my head, thinking. “No; I _am_ going to put things back in order. That’s a promise.”

“A worthy promise,” Blackwall agreed. “One that I’m happy to support. For me, I’ll be satisfied so long as we find the bastards that killed the Divine. They owe us some answers.”

“I very much agree, darling,” Vivienne said diplomatically from near Cassandra. As she introduced herself to the Warden, I jogged ahead, aiming towards camp and where Fen was resting in my tent; she had run most of the way, and was understandably in need of a nap. I could hear Cassandra behind me.

“If you choose to join us immediately, we leave on the morrow for the Storm Coast. But, should you choose to settle into the Inquisition, I do believe Sera would be grateful if you would take her back with you.”

“Yes!” I heard Sera chant. “Yes, yes, YES!”

A snort from Blackwall. “I could be persuaded to go to Haven. But what draws you to the Storm Coast?”

I turned, walking backwards down the slope. “The Iron Bull. Or the Chargers, I suppose. A mercenary group that is interested in joining us.”

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Well, Tevinter mercenaries as well, but mostly the Chargers. And mostly Iron Bull. And Krem.” I turned around again, just in time to hop over an upturned root.

“We don’t need to be there for that,” Sera reassured him. “I hear it’s wet up there.”

“That it is,” Blackwall said patiently. Well, it seemed at least _two_ of my comrades might get along. That was a relief.

Fen greeted me as I entered the camp, her tail wagging as she pawed at my knees. I knelt before her and fluffed her face, grinning as she nuzzled my neck, marking me with her scent. She put her paws on my shoulders and pushed me back, tackling me playfully. I laughed and rolled with her in the dirt, scratching and ruffling her. I could almost _feel_ Vivienne’s gaze.

“And this is the woman who leads us?” she remarked to Cassandra, to which Cass replied with a noise made in the back of her throat. I just laughed, and continued playing with my pup.

When I stood up, I was covered in dirt. I tried to dust myself off, but it was ineffectual. Fen, too, was positively filthy. “Looks like you and I are in dire need of a bath,” I told her. She sat, looking up at me with perked ears. I glanced over at Cass as the Seeker settled down by the fire. It was early evening, and the sun was still out.

“Cass, Fen and I are going to head back to the lake. We won’t be long.”

The warrior frowned, half-standing. “Shall I come with you, Herald?”

I eyed her speculatively at the title, and shook my head. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine. Come on, Fen!”

As I darted past Blackwall, Fen at my heels, I heard him say, “Wait—is the Herald’s name Fen, or is it the wolf?”

Varric laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t try to understand it, Warden. You’ll just give yourself a headache.”

“Fen,” I heard Solas say, loudly enough to get my attention. I slowed my sprint reluctantly to a stop, and looked back at him. When I stared at him, he continued. “Do you really think it wise to bathe in the lake alone—a place where we were, not moments before, attacked by bandits?”

I smiled at him and thumped Fen’s haunches. “I won’t be alone. If anyone _wants_ a bath, please feel free to join me—but don’t come if you are just going to sit on the sidelines and watch over me like a weirdo.” I grinned and took off, not waiting to hear his reply.

I took off my foot wrappings, but left my clothes on—they were just as filthy as I was, and I was not comfortable enough to get half-naked in public anyway. I had to pick Fen up and toss her into the water to get her to try swimming, but once she was in, she loved it. I dove off the bridge, the water cold and crisp and somewhat bracing. It was perfect. Fen yapped as she paddled around, snapping at the water as the dirt was rinsed from her fur. I laughed, watching how adorable she was.

The sound of something moving through water caught my attention. Solas was there, because of _course he was_ , swimming towards me. He stopped several feet away, yet I could still tell that he was, at the very least, shirtless. My heart somersaulted, and suddenly it was difficult to stay afloat. Had my clothes been so heavy before? So stiff?

“You actually _came_ ,” I said, somewhat stupefied.

“I have never been one to turn away from a challenge when issued.”

Was he amused? Annoyed? I couldn’t tell. The way the corners of his mouth turned, ever so slightly, upwards masked his expression, making him always seem so…unperturbed. I sank a little lower in the water, watching him. “How was that a _challenge_?”

One of his auburn eyebrows quirked in disbelief. “Do you truly mean to suggest that it wasn’t?”

Instead of answering like a fully grown, mature adult, I spat a small stream of water at him and dove under the surface. I swam hard until I was certain he had been well and truly left behind, and then I popped up again, gasping for air.

I was face to face with him. I sputtered and jolted backwards, eyes wide. “How did you—you were over _there_?”

I could have _sworn_ he smirked. “Fade Step works in the water as well, you know.”

“No I did _not_. That’s cheating!” I froze and looked around wildly. “Where’s Fen?”

My heart nearly stopped. She was fine; a few feet away, treading water happily, aiming for the shore. I let out a sigh and swam over to her. She was already halfway out of the water. Stepping out of the lake was almost like climbing up a hill; my wet clothes pulled me down, working against me, as I moved after my wolf. She shook herself, flicking water everywhere. I looked back to where Solas had been, but he was no longer paying attention to me, but focused instead on cleaning himself with a small bar of what looked like soap. I swallowed hard and looked away quickly. I knew exactly what that soap smelled like from lying next to him those few nights when we shared a tent. Creators, I missed that.

I kept my back to him, waiting for him to finish so we could walk back together. To keep myself focused on anything other than the fact that Solas was behind me, bathing, I drew on magic to warm myself and Fen, drying us to the best of my ability. It worked well enough; Fen dried, through shaking and my efforts, and I was only moderately damp by the time Solas emerged. He was shirtless because _of course he was_ , but at least he had on trousers. For a moment, I had been afraid that he wouldn’t.

All the same, I tried not to frown. He turned to me after a moment, about to speak, then stopped. He tilted his head to the side, curious. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you being deliberately cruel, or was this just obliviousness?”

The confusion melted into smooth nonchalance. Deliberate, then. “You are the one who insisted on bathing alone, are you not?”

I folded my arms across my chest, and tried not to scowl. “Oh, so you’re punishing me?”

The apostate opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it. His head tilted as he thought, and finally, he made eye contact with me again. “I suppose I was; I apologize, Fen. It is no excuse, but your flippant disregard for your own safety can be, at times, frustrating. I was lashing out, and it was both needless and sophomoric.”

On the verge of accepting his apology and being done with it, I had to stop myself. My temper flared. “What do you mean I show ‘flippant disregard’ for my own safety?”

He stared at me flatly, looked as if he was going to defend his position, but then half-turned, shaking his head. “I was trying to apologize, and I have managed to do a very poor job of it.”

I had a choice: I could continue to be angry, and not only alienate him further, but also feel awful; or I could let this go. Undoubtedly it would come up again later anyway, and I could be mad about it then. So I just huffed, folded my arms across my chest, and asked him to dress himself. He did so, and I watched him askance. His back was muscular, and his arms were powerful. I wondered, and certainly not for the first time, how it would feel to be wrapped up in his embrace.

For a moment, I was tempted to ask him if he had ever tied anyone up—if he knew how to make the knots, and if he could show me. Maybe I was missing Fen’Harel too much. But that was a bad idea, and it was one I did not follow through. Instead, I told him it was fine; everything was fine. We returned to camp in hush, Fen a noiseless presence at my side. The others had set up the makings of dinner, and Varric had been thoughtful enough to get some vegetables cooking for me. As I ate, Fen went out to hunt. I trusted she would be fine, or that I would sense danger if she ran into any. Besides, there were fennec aplenty nearby—she would not be far.

Sera was harassing Solas, but probably only because he would not let go of the fact that she cared not a fig for the elvhen.

“You can make magic anywhere, Solas?” she asked, taking a bite out of the ram they had roasted. “Ever piss it by accident?”

Solas paused, setting his meal down upon his lap. “No. Wait…” a small wrinkle appeared between his brows, then he shook his head. “No.

“What?” Sera grinned. “How would you not remember something like that?”

The hedge-mage gave a casual shrug of his shoulder. “We were all young once.”

Varric leaned back, looking amused and very much interested. “Now that’s a story I would love to hear.”

“Another night, perhaps,” Solas replied, standing. “I am retiring.” Nodding to the series of good nights he received, he disappeared into his tent. I watched him go, trying not to imagine him shirtless in the tent, preparing for bed. I swallowed, finished eating quickly, and excused myself. Fen returned just as I was leaving the group. We headed into our tent together—just we two; the others were sharing, and I supposed no one wanted to sleep beside a wolf. Solas may not have minded; it was _me_ that he objected to.

 

**~**

 

Someone was waiting for me in the Fade, and it was not anyone I expected.

When I opened my eyes, I knew I was in the Beyond, and yet…it was different. The Fade hummed with energy, with magic ripe to be called upon and used at a whim. Here, now, everything was…still. Quiet. There was no hum; there was only silence, and the giant dragon reclining, waiting. I swallowed, my heart in my throat as I stared at the glorious creature, Her power emanating from her like smoke from a fire.

She opened golden eyes and stared into me—not _at_ me, definitely into me. She saw all that lay inside me and I could tell, she judged. I swallowed, trying to be brave. I stood as tall as I was able, and met her eye. If she found me unworthy, there was nothing I could do now. I would meet my fate, not cringe from it like a shirking coward. I could not, however, stop my knees from trembling just slightly.

She snorted, a jet of steam or smoke trailing from her nostrils. She moved forward without standing, simply leaned toward me, seeming to grow larger. When she spoke, her mouth did not move; the sound appeared in my mind and all around me, echoing in that empty space.

‘ _Be calm, girl. I am not here to smite you. I simply wanted to verify that you were not straying from the path set before you_.’

I nodded, looking up at her, still somewhat in awe. She was…beautiful and terrifying, all at once. “I hope I do not disappoint you.”

One of her eye-ridges, where an eyebrow on an elf might have been, rose. ‘ _A girl who could charm my dearest friend would have to strive to be a disappointment_ ,’ she replied smoothly. ‘ _No; your actions have made Me confident in My choice. I am here but to remind you of your task. You are not here to be a distraction to a lonely god; I have brought you here to lead this movement that might otherwise be turned astray by humans, and their beliefs_.’

I frowned up at her, not understanding. “But aren’t I human? Or…or wasn’t I?”

Her eyes glowed, clearly amused. ‘ _Whatever it is that you were, you are no longer. You are Spirit. What kind remains to be seen; I think it shall be a good and powerful one; one that is ripe to save our people_.’

“And who are our people? The elves? Because, while I do intend to do all I can for them—I do not plan on stopping there. I am going to help _everyone_.”

She grinned as best a dragon could. ‘ _Yes. That is precisely right. Perhaps I was wrong to worry. I should have faith in My own choices_.’

“You said I’m not here to be a distraction for a lonely god—You mean Fen’Harel, don’t You?”

She said nothing, but regarded me with eyes that seemed to dance. I took a breath and continued. “I’m going to tell you—I don’t want to be his distraction. I want to be his heart. He and Solas—I know that I can be there for them, help them both. I can guide them, as they will guide me.”

Her grin widened and Her gaze was so bright, I was afraid I might catch fire. ‘ _Exactly, child. I like your gumption. Do not try to force yourself onto him, but do not give up either. He will need you, and he will need your power. Help him; help him love you. Your Spirit…it is strong enough. If not now, it will be. He is going to need that strength to do what must be done._ ’

“I…I’ll try. But he left me. I think…I think I was too much.”

She snorted a ring of smoke at me, narrowing Her eyes. ‘ _Girl, the reason I was able to find you so quickly is because his desire for you acted like a beacon_.’

My eyes grew wide. “He’s _nearby_?”

‘ _You losing your memories was_ most _inconvenient. Do try to recuperate them sooner, rather than later_.’

And she was gone. I was left standing alone in a clearing, obviously in the Fade still, but the Fade I was accustomed to—it hummed with energy and spirit and magic, and was a clear replica of the Hinterlands. I was standing where we had made camp, and suddenly it occurred to me that I might explore those ruins, as Solas had once expressed a desire in doing. With a grin, I turned and ran towards where the ruins had been. I ran up the slope, only slowing when I saw…well, _it_.

Surrounding the ruins was a shimmering wall of energy. I approached it cautiously, frowning. It was almost like a curtain—a gentle partition that was preventing anyone from getting inside it. That was…strange, to put it mildly. Someone wanted to keep others out, and that made me both curious and wary. What was going on? I felt my pulse spike—which was odd, seeing as I was in the Fade. What if it was a rogue mage, casting some sort of magic? I knew something was happening in Redcliffe with the mages—something important; I just couldn’t remember _what_.

I tried to part the curtain, but I couldn’t. I could touch it, feel its power, but I could not move past it. I closed my eyes, focusing on it, trying to understand it. It was keeping all anthropoid creatures out. I wondered…but no, that was _too_ easy—too simple a solution.

It would be hilarious if it worked.

I stepped back, frowning in concentration. I didn’t need to close my eyes, but it helped me to focus. I breathed sharply, drawing on Fen’s image. I recalled how it had felt to be so connected to her when I had healed her limb. I recalled the way her fur felt; the way her eyes were so steady and so bright. I could smell her, feel her, run with her, her legs keeping time with my own. I felt the flash of magic wash over and through me; it was so much easier than I had expected. I fell to all fours, my hands and feet now paws. I had expected it to be painful, to be a contortion of bone and sinew—but it wasn’t. One moment I had been me, and now I was simply a wolf. It truly was as uncomplicated as that.

Standing there, in my new body, I wondered what it would be like to run on all fours—to run and hunt and sing to the moon. It took a good deal of self-control to keep from doing that. I had to remind myself of the importance of stopping whatever could be happening—whatever was going down at Redcliffe, or would be soon, it…it was bad. I thought, anyway; I couldn’t be sure. Of course, I couldn’t be sure that my simple transformation would get me past the curtain either, but it was worth a shot. If it didn’t, I would wake myself and go to Solas, ask for his advice and help. Maybe Vivienne would be able to help as well.

I stepped up to the shimmering wall of raw energy and pushed my nose against it. Whereas before I had met solid resistance, now the curtain gave beneath my pressure, pushing in. There was resistance, yes, but I could move it! Gathering my energy and concentration, I surged forward, imagining this wall, this curtain, parting beneath my touch. I didn’t want it to shatter and give me away—I just wanted it to move around me, let me pass. It did, and I was able to slip through it, all the while feeling it press around me like some heavy fabric. It sealed itself behind me, and I was inside the barrier, inside the ruins—and they were still ruins; the timeline was current.

But I had made a mistake. It hadn’t been a rogue mage who had cast this barrier for nefarious purposes—it had been Solas. Because he wanted privacy. The shock of the sight had me lose control of my form, and I found myself sitting up against the barrier, elven again, staring in a mixture of awe, horror and heartbreak. He hadn’t noticed me yet because he was _very_ focused on what—excuse me— _whom_ he was doing. I couldn’t see her, just her limbs wrapping around his naked back and waist.

I swallowed, and it was suddenly rather difficult to see. My vision blurred behind the tears that were filling my eyes. No wonder he was so adamant when he rejected me—he already _had_ someone. It felt _wrong_ , but clearly I was the one who was mistaken. I was seeing the evidence of it with my own eyes. And I was stuck here. There was no way I could focus enough to change back into a wolf. I would have to break through the barrier—if I was strong enough—and at the moment, I didn’t think I could even stand. It was wrong of me, an invasion of privacy, but I _could_ not look away. I bit my lip hard to keep from making any sound. I would have to wake myself. It was the only way I _might_ not attract his attention.

It took more energy than I had expected, but in a surge of power, I was able to send myself out of the Fade. Just as I was disappearing, I saw Solas freeze and turn. I was certain I was gone before he could see me, however.

I woke and sobbed as quietly as I could into my bedroll. I heaved silently, my entire body shaking. Fen stirred from her spot near my feet. She crawled up to me, nuzzling gently at my cheek. I tossed my arms around her and pulled her close. I nuzzled into her fur, trying not to make a sound as I continued to cry. It was one thing to be told no by the one I loved; it was another thing entirely to see him making love to another woman—and it _had_ been making love, not mere fucking. He had been so tender, his hands trailing over her body with absolute rapture and worship.

Something stirred outside my tent; dawn was still a far-off thought, so I knew it was not Cassandra come to waken me. I inhaled sharply and held my breath, making no sound, pretending to be asleep. Fen whined gently, struggling against me suddenly. I held her tightly, urging her to be still and quiet.

“ _Fen_ ,” Solas’ voice came soft and low. “I must speak with you about what…what you saw. I must apologize. I never should have—”

“Oh, _Solas_ ,” I said, my voice trembling, but unbroken. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, willing them to stop their insipid leaking. “I’m the one—I’m the one who was in the wrong. I shouldn’t have invaded your barrier. I just…I thought it was a rebel mage, and I…I’m sorry to have invaded y-your romantic whatever, with whomever that was.”

He was silent a moment, so long that I thought perhaps he had left—but I would have heard that, wouldn’t I?

“You did not see who it was,” he said, a statement rather than a question.

“Was it someone I _know_?” I asked, horrified.

“No,” he said, and if I didn’t know better, I would have said that word contained all the sorrow in the world. “No, she—I—I apologize again; you did not need to see that, regardless. I hope you can forgive me for once more causing you undue pain and distress.”

Fen slipped out of my arms. She nudged open the tent, revealing Solas crouching on the other side. She head-butted his knee gingerly, and he ran his fingers through her fur, unable to look at me. I watched him, hugging one of my blankets now since Fen had left me. I watched him.

“I would forgive you nearly anything,” I said, unable to stop myself.

Pain crossed his features, but they quickly relaxed into that unreadable mask he always wore. His eyes, though, when he looked up at me, his eyes _burned_. Had I made him angry?

“The Fade can be shaped to our desires,” he said simply. “I used that to my advantage. She was not a Spirit, nor was she a dreamer. I crafted her, if that is any consolation. It was unwise of me to do—it clearly draws attention; in my…harried state, I thought perhaps a barrier would be enough to shield my activities from any passerby. I was clearly mistaken. It will not happen again.”

“Wait,” I said, managing to not choke up. “You just…you _made_ her?”

“I created an image, and I used it,” he said starkly. He scratched behind Fen’s ears. I flung myself backwards onto my bedding and covered my face behind my hands. I wanted to scream, but also to laugh with relief. And frustration—if he wanted someone to do that with, why not _me_? I sighed heavily and let my arms fall to my sides.

“This is just so…” I wiped the remaining tears from my eyes. “Mythal came to me, in the Fade.”

Solas jolted. He slid into the tent, no longer lingering awkwardly outside. He sat down by the entrance, and Fen flopped into his lap, her tail wagging slowly back and forth. He rubbed beneath her chin soothingly, and she was soon asleep. He cocked his head.

“What did she…how did she appear?”

“She was just there,” I said, sitting up with a small grunt of effort. I was still exhausted. “When I opened my eyes, she was there—a giant dragon—and we were in some sort of…enclosure, I suppose. I don’t rightly know—it was as if we were in the Fade, but not. An in-between space.”

His expression was smooth, calculating. He did not look up from Fen. “And what did she have to say?”

“She was checking up on me,” I continued with a shrug. “Wanted to make sure I was on the right path, I think. That I wasn’t letting the power of this,” I waved at the mark, “or being the ‘Herald’ go to my head. She said she approved of all I’ve done so far. But then…” I sighed, unsure how to continue. I drew my knees to my chest and frowned in thought. “She said something odd, Solas.”

He finally looked up, watching me with that steady, penetrating gaze of his. “What did she say?”

“That I had to help Fen’Harel.” I paused, then corrected myself. “Well, she didn’t say him precisely, but I know that’s whom she meant. She said he was nearby, and that I needed to lend him my power.” I cocked my head to the side. “And she said…she said I was ‘Spirit.’ Not _a_ spirit, just…Spirit.” I finally met his gaze. “Do you know…I mean, you know more about most things than anyone else. Do you know what she could have meant?”

“I cannot say,” he began, then stopped, thinking. “Perhaps the mark is changing you. Tell me, has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your…spirit, for lack of a better word?”

I shook my head, looking from the glow in my hand, back to him. “If it had, I don’t think I would be able to tell. Even if I had all my memories.”

“No. Perhaps not. That’s an excellent point.” He leaned back, a small frown between his eyebrows. His gaze flicked over me, and I realized rather quickly that I was wearing only my bindings to bed. I cleared my throat nervously, drawing my blankets up over my chest.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m just so comfortable around you.”

“Ah.” He smiled, and it seemed a touch self-deprecating. “How very unfortunate. I cannot say the same, however.”

I frowned, sitting up a little straighter. “You’re not comfortable around me? Is it—is it because I pretty much throw myself at you, left and right?”

He snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “No. It is because a single look from you can disarm me, even at a distance. Petulantly, I would have the same effect on you, if I could.”

I was too surprised to respond. He gently scooted Fen out of his lap, much to her protest. She whined, tried to crawl back in, only to be stopped as he got to his knees. Sulking, she trotted to me, flung herself onto my legs, and sighed, looking up at him, her chin on her paws.

He smiled at her, chuckling. “I shall see you both in the morning.”

“Wait,” I protested, perhaps a little desperately. “Don’t…I mean, you could stay here. Maybe…maybe we could walk the Fade together. Like we planned last we were here.”

The elvhen apostate refused to look at me. His smile was…tired. “I do not think that wise. My virtues are not boundless, and even my patience and restraint know limits.”

I frowned, my arms dropping to my sides as I regarded him solemnly. “I’m not entirely sure I know what you mean.”

“Good,” he said simply. “Rest well, Fen. _Atisha_.”

“Solas…” When he stopped, I moved forward, disrupting Fen only slightly. “Why won’t you tell me what you mean? You _can_ talk to me.”

He kept his back to me. He was tense—I could see the strain in his muscles, the cords in his neck. Hesitantly, I touched the back of his tunic, caught it between my fingers. I could sense something was on the verge of happening, something important. If I…I knew that if I touched him, whatever he was holding back would shatter. What had Mythal said? Not to push too hard? She had said it about Fen’Harel, but I had a feeling the same applied here too. So I didn’t touch him; I just held his shirt gently. “Please.”

Solas inhaled sharply, the tension in his body intensifying. He grabbed the entrance flap of the tent, and held it tightly, his knuckles white. “ _Atisha_ ,” he repeated again, whether to me or himself, I was unsure. And then he was pulling out of my grip and gone into the night.

I stared out into the darkness for several long minutes before finally crawling back to bed with Fen. Then, before I had a chance to even realize that I had fallen back asleep, Cassandra was waking me, informing me it was time to get ready to depart. Needless to say, I was a bit crabby as I rolled up my tent.

Blackwall and Sera were both going to head back to Haven, and half-way through me feeding Fen some of my breakfast by tossing it and having her catch it, mid-air, Vivienne decided to join them. So it was to be only Cassandra, Solas, Varric and I once more. That was fine, I supposed, though I would miss getting to know my new companions—but it would take about three days to get to the Storm Coast from our current position, then five or six to get back to Haven. And Leliana had been right—the smaller the unit, the faster the travel.

Our party split after a quick goodbye, and then we were off, making our way northeast. We rode in companionable silence for a while, then Cassandra turned to Solas.

“I’ve wondered: How did you know to approach us, Solas? The Breach opened; we were scrambling and barely had time to think…and there you were.”

Solas tilted his head, watching her, clearly curious as to where this train of thought was going. “I went to see the Breach for myself. I did not know you would be there.”

“You must not have been far,” she said, pushing for more information.

“I was not. I’d come to hear of the Conclave, but did not want to get close.”

“Hmm,” she said, thoughtful. “Lucky for us, then.”

“No kidding,” Varric added.

The apostate looked from Varric and back to Cassandra. “Seeker, you initially believed our ‘Herald of Andraste’ was involved in the attack on the Conclave, yes?”

The Seeker nodded. “I did. The evidence seemed damning, given the lack of an alternative.”

I did my best not to sigh, and not to think of that jail cell. This was…an uncomfortable subject for me. No one seemed to notice.

“Yet you changed your mind,” Solas prompted.

“You also heard the voices at the temple—is it so surprising that I listened to them?”

“Sadly, yes. Too few invested with authority possess the courage to alter their course. They fear the appearance of weakness.”

Cass snorted. “The truth is more important than my reputation, and anyone willing to accuse me of weakness is welcome to try.”

“You know what I like about you, Chuckles?” Varric grinned over at Solas. “Your boundless optimism.”

Solas gazed at the dwarf, somewhat disdainfully. “It is comforting that whatever qualities I lack, you’ll invent for me, Varric.”

“No, really. Why else would an elven apostate help crazy Chantry folk close a hole in the sky?”

Solas seemed to think about that for a moment. “When you put it like that, I must concede your point.”

Conversation dwindled after that, somewhat to my relief. I did not like talking about the Breach; I didn’t like talking about things that reminded me of my time imprisoned, or with the weight of the threat of guilt hanging over me. We rode in silence for several hours, until I asked Cass about the Calloway series.

“How many chapters are there so far?” I asked, sitting back in my saddle. Cassandra tilted her head, thinking about it.

“I believe there are twelve—but the next is scheduled to come out in less than a week. It will be delivered to Haven, of course.”

I grinned. “Of course. Now—in chapter six—we learn that Calloway’s uncle, Berreton, is behind the kidnapping of Lady Soleil; you have to tell me: does she make it? Or does she get sacrificed to bring back Ser Berreton’s departed wife?”

Cassandra smiled at me, clearly glad to have someone to discuss this with. “You’ll have to wait; I refuse to spoil it. And believe me, it is worth the wait.”

“Oh, but Calloway has already lost so much! His first love, his sister, and now Lady Soleil?”

“Trust me, Fen, you will never believe it if I tell you; you must read it.”

“Soleil turns out to be the renegade blood mage, doesn’t she?” Varric asked idly from beside us. I blinked at him, and missed Cassandra’s expression when she grunted.

“Varric! How did you—?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Predictable. This serial could have been written by a five year old. I haven’t even read them, and I guessed that. What a hack.”

I laughed, not truly perturbed to have that parcel of information spoiled for me. “I hope not. No five year old should be that versed in certain… _arts_.”

Varric’s eyebrows shot up and his grin widened. “I hadn’t realized it was _that_ kind of tale.”

“That is not the focus,” Cassandra snapped, obviously irritated. “There is _some_ smut, yes, but it is primarily an adventure and a tale of a man with honor who fights against the odds for his people.”

“Do you have the next one on you, Cass? I’d love to get started.”

Some of her irritation seemed to melt at that. She inclined her head. “I shall look tonight, Herald, to see if I have it packed away. I believe I do.”

I was so happy that I even let the Herald slip. No need to get on her bad side. She was able to find it that night, and I stayed up too late reading it. The following days passed in a similar fashion; Solas and Varric chatted quite often surprisingly—mostly about the ineptitude of humans—and Cass and I discussed the Duke Calloway series with growing fervor.

It was apparent when we reached the Storm Coast due to the, well, _storm_. It wasn’t raining, but it seemed like it was close to it. The sky above was dark grey, and the air was heavy with fog and mist. It was rockier, with many more hills and sloping mountains, but otherwise, it resembled the Hinterlands precisely—the same green trees, flowers speckling the tall grass, dirt paths giving way to stone slabs—only the weather and the scent of the ocean were _really_ different.

Scout Harding greeted us at the forward camp. “Your worship!” she exclaimed when she saw me. I tried to not let my smile be tight. “For what it’s worth, welcome to the Storm Coast.”

“There’s no need for titles, Harding,” I said, keeping my tone pleasant. “What can you tell me about this location?”

“There’s a group of bandits operating in the area. They know the terrain, and our small party has had trouble going up against them.” Her gaze was direct, her expression pleasant. “Some of our soldiers went to speak with their leader. Haven’t heard back, though.”

“I will do what I can to find our people,” I assured her. I could feel the mist soaking into my leather coat, and from there, into my clothes. It was not a pleasant sensation.

“Thank you, Your Wor—” she stopped herself and smiled bashfully. “That’s a relief to hear.” She continued, not lingering over her slip. “The soldiers didn’t have an exact location for the bandits, but they were starting their search farther down the beach. With all this fuss, we haven’t been able to conduct a proper search for the Wardens, either—something Leliana requested we do when she sent us here to scout.” She smiled again, adding, “Well, good luck, and enjoy the sea air. I hear it’s good for the soul.”

We said our goodbyes after she informed us she would be heading back to Haven, and I briefly overlooked the ledge that the camp was near, gazing down at the coast. It was mid-morning, and we had plenty of time to look for the Iron Bull, as well as search for our missing soldiers—though Fen was staying here. She was too young for battle, and I had a feeling when we found Bull, we’d find the mercenaries.

“Well…” I said, finally turning back to my comrades, smiling. “Who feels like a stroll along the beach?”

Varric snorted, but Cassandra nodded. “Excellent place to begin our search.”

The hike down was…wet. It began to rain halfway down the steep cliff side, much to my displeasure. Normally I loved the rain, but not when I was stuck in armor, trudging through sand and whatever kind of sludge the dirt had turned into. I was dragged out of my thoughts by the sound of battle ahead—there, in the distance, was a group fighting a band of Tevinters (or so I thought them, judging by their fashion). These must be the Chargers fighting against those Vint mercenaries. I nodded to my companions, and we fell into battle beside them. It was petty of me, but fighting a group of people known for their slaving was easier than it was fighting rogue templars and mages. That was going to require some self-reflection later.

Varric and I tag-teamed a Tevinter archer, and I had just enough time to wonder at the odd headpiece he had been wearing, debating whether or not those little wings and that horn extending from the center were functional, before a mercenary with a sword came barreling at me. One of the Chargers—carrying perhaps the largest mallet I had ever seen—slammed his weapon into the Tevinter, knocking him down and allowing Cass to behead him with one clean swipe of her blade.

Two Tevinter warriors brandishing swords had flanked a tall Qunari, his horns majestic as the rain soaked them and made them shine. I drew a chain of lightning down, striking them both, and Solas finished them by freezing them, allowing who I guessed was The Iron Bull, to shatter them. The elvhen apostate suddenly appeared beside me, having used Fade Step to travel fast, and cast a barrier on us both, just as two bolts from a crossbow came torpedoing my way. The barrier caught them, protecting me, but quickly faded. Working together, we took the archer down.

The battle was tedious, and by the end I was swimming in guilt. So many more women and men dead at my hands—and for _what_? What had they hoped to accomplish here? I leaned against my staff, feeling tired, and not just physically. I was tired in my heart. That could wait though—the Qunari warrior was approaching me. He was tall, taller than anyone else here, with a scarred physique broad enough to match his height and a gleaming patch over his left eye. He was bald, with stubble lining his long jaw.

“Chargers, stand down!” he commanded when his group seemed to be unsure of us. He turned to the young man I recognized from Haven. “Krem! How’d we do?”

Krem tilted his head, arms at attention behind his back. “Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the Qunari said, a small smile on his lips. “Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks.”

Krem nodded and went to his task. I gathered my courage and approached. The Qunari gazed at me steadily. “So you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming.”

I looked around at the dead surrounding us. “You…want to have a drink?” I asked, somewhat hesitantly.

He shrugged. “Better than _during_ the battle. This is Golden Scythe 4:90 Black. You spill it, you’ll kill all the grass.” Without further ado, he sat on a large rock, kicking his long legs out before him. He gazed up at me. “I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

Krem approached, nodding to me. “Good to see you again.” At my smile, he turned to his commanding officer. “Throatcutters are done, Chief.”

“Already?” the Iron Bull said, brow furrowed. “Have ’em check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.”

“None taken,” the lieutenant replied blithely. “Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?” I could hear the smile in his voice as he walked away. Oh, I _liked_ him.

The Iron Bull, however, was all business. His stare was intense. “So…you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it…and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

I gazed around at the men and women gathered, and nodded. “The Chargers seem like an excellent company.”

“They are. But you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard, I’m your man. Whatever it is—demons, dragons? The bigger the better.” He stood, walked a pace away from me, but continued speaking. “And there’s one other thing. Might be useful; might piss you off.” He turned, once more facing me. “Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”

The word…that was familiar. “Qunari…guards? City watch?”

He gave me a small half-smile. “I’d go closer to ‘spies,’ but yeah, that’s them. Or, well, _us_. The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening. But,” he continued, unwavering, “I also _get_ reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”

I eyed him thoughtfully. “What would you send back in these reports?”

“Enough to keep my superiors happy,” he said honestly. “Nothing that’ll compromise your operations. The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart. You let me send word of what you’re doing, it’ll put some minds at ease. That’s good for everyone.”

I smiled. There was something so genuine about Iron Bull—it was disconcerting considering his role as spy. That was part of the package, I supposed. “All right. You’re in. Welcome to the Inquisition.”

His smile was small. “Excellent. Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!”

Bull’s lieutenant was none too pleased. “What about the casks, chief? We just opened them up. With _axes_.”

“Find some way to seal them. You’re Tevinter, right? Try blood magic.” He looked down at me. “We’ll meet you back at Haven.”

The Chargers cleaned up quickly, and were gone just as fast—leaving only the lifeless bodies of those poor Tevinter mercenaries behind. My little group and I continued down the beach, searching for those missing soldiers. We passed through what looked to be a stone landslide, and Cassandra urged us to stop and be silent. Up ahead were a band of people wearing blue robes. They were well-armed, had large shields and had two mabari war hounds with them.

“Those must be the bandits Harding mentioned,” I said, realizing after how obvious that was. I winced at the look the group gave me. “Okay, but maybe we don’t have to kill them—maybe we can try talking—see if they’ll admit where our soldiers are.”

Cassandra snorted, shaking her head. “Your optimism knows no bounds, it seems.”

“No,” I said sternly, squaring my shoulders. “It doesn’t.” I marched past her, ignoring her hissing intake of breath as she tried to stop me. “Hello!” I called, trying to be brave when they all turned at once, immediately defensive. “I’m with the Inquisition—I don’t want to fight you.”

One of the bandits let out a war cry and her mabari charged, teeth bared. Solas appeared beside me, freezing the hound as it made to lung at me. The bandit was on its heels, and the other mabari coming up fast. I froze it as well, and together, Solas and I managed to shock the charging bandit into paralysis.

“Please!” I said to the remaining soldiers. “We don’t need to fight!”

“We do,” one said, though she did not sound particularly happy about it. “We absolutely do.” And then she was running at me, her shield ready to bash me backwards. Varric put a bolt in her thigh, and Cassandra surged past us, letting out a battle cry as she met the last soldier with a clash of steel. The attacker who had been paralyzed recovered, and once again charged.

“ _Please_!” I tried again, blocking her sword with my staff, only to have her fall back, bolt to the shoulder. She ripped it out and charged again, and this time Solas froze and shattered her. The woman with the bolt in her leg was struggling to stand, her leg pouring blood. Behind her, Cassandra struck the man down, spun just in time as the first mabari unfroze, and stabbed it. I winced, hating to do it, but I froze the beast again, allowing Cass to shatter her with the pommel of her sword. Varric took care of the second mabari, and I turned back to the one surviving bandit.

“Let me heal you,” I said, slowly approaching, hands up. She shook her head, her eyes wild.

“You cannot—the Blades of Hessarian answer to no one but our leader. You must kill me if you want me to stop.” With a gasp, she broke the bolt in half and pulled it out. Blood gushed down her leg, dark and fast. Without healing, she would not make it. Even so, she raised her blade, the handle slick with her own blood, only to fall as Cassandra’s sword decapitated her. I watched the body collapse, feeling sick to my stomach and in my heart. I turned away, walked a few steps, and vomited. I had seen violence these last few weeks, but to have a head land at my feet like that…

Varric knelt beside me, offering me some water. “Clean your mouth with this,” he said, and I obeyed, and then he handed me a small flask, “and now drink a sip of this—only a sip, Blossom.”

I nodded, and obediently swallowed it. Whatever kind of alcohol it was, it burned on the way down. It did the trick though—my stomach rebelled only a moment, and then I was slightly numb. It made it easier to stand, easier to move on, which move on we must. It had looked like the group—the Blades of Hessarian, as the bandit had called them—had come down the steep incline, up from the hills. We moved that way, walking up the slippery mud, careful not to slide back down. There was a path, of sorts, small stones spread throughout to keep the dirt from washing away completely and leaving a tunnel of mud behind. We took that path up, through a passageway in a giant boulder, until we came to what might once have been a large stairway. A sign warned us of falling rocks, and we made our way cautiously forward.

When we finally reached the top, we were in the forest again, with grass and flowers up to our knees. We came upon two ruined cabins and there were more Blades of Hessarian soldiers with their mabari hounds. We defeated them, with minimal injuries on our side. We found our missing soldiers in one of the decrepit huts. Their corpses were already cold.

“These must be them,” I said sadly, looking at our fallen brethren.

“Murdered,” Varric said, his tone matching how I felt. “Shit.”

“We should see that their families are notified,” Solas said from beside me. Seeming to somehow sense that I needed it, he put his hand on the small of my back to support me. I looked at him gratefully, then turned my attention to Cass.

“Can we have their bodies taken back to Haven?”

She nodded, looking just as grave as the rest of us. “Of course.”

I thanked her, then stepped further inside. Solas’ hand fell away from me, but I could regret that later. On one of the tables was a map, presumably of the location of the Hessarian base. “Camped further along the beach,” I said, folding it and handing it to our Seeker. An open notebook caught my eye across the cabin. I walked to it, flipping through it. Beside it was a crumpled piece of paper, a note intentionally left behind. I read it out loud to my companions. “It’s not our place to disagree. They’re attempting to set themselves up along the shore, and we have orders. We are the sword, not the hand that wields it. You taught me that. If they’re worthy, let them come with the Mercy’s Crest. The Blades of Hessarian will listen. _You_ will get yourself cast out—or worse.”

Varric rubbed his jaw. “Mercy’s Crest, huh?”

I nodded, looking at the note. “It seems that’s the way to challenge their leader.”

Cassandra made a face, disgusted, and shook her head as she surveyed the death in the room. “Naming themselves after the sword that killed Andraste? Blasphemous.”

“Is that what that means?” I asked, trying not to think about the families our soldiers would not be returning to. I headed out, aiming back for our camp. It was going to be dark soon, and nothing sounded better than some dreamless sleep right about now. “We’ll see if we can’t make this Crest, and as soon as we do, I’m going to challenge their leader.”

“Agreed,” Solas said, walking beside me. “They do not seem to approve of their leader’s dictates. It is time this person was replaced.”

“It will stabilize the area,” Cassandra agreed. “Thedas needs all the stability it can get.”

We gave the note to the requisition officer stationed in camp, to see what she could come up with as far as Mercy’s Crest was concerned. We’d need some serpenstone, which we were fortune enough to have already in camp, and some sort of leather—deepstalker would work best, but she would do what she could with anything we could find. We had passed a cave on the beach earlier, and deepstalkers were notorious for their hatred of light. So, before settling down for the evening, we went and cleaned out that cave of its giant spiders and deepstalkers. As we were coming out of the cave, the deepstalkers slung over Cassandra’s shoulder, Varric took a moment to stop and admire the ocean as it crashed wildly on the shore.

“The Waking Sea,” he said with a sigh. “Somewhere across all that water is Kirkwall.”

Cassandra paused beside him, turning her hazel eyes out to sea. “It _was_ a long journey to Haven.”

“Considering the company, I’m surprised it didn’t feel longer.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. We climbed back up to camp in silence, until I noticed something glinting on the cliff side. It looked like a…mounted skull, of some kind? I shuddered, turning away from it. It…unnerved me.

“An Ocularum,” Solas informed me, noticing how it had caught my eye.

“What is it for?”

He looked over our shoulders, gazing out at the land before us. “Perhaps to act as a magnifier. See that sparkle? That is a piece of crystal that, I believe, acts as a telescope.”

“Morbid,” I said, avoiding a patch of slick mud that looked so ready to trip me. He nodded his agreement, and then we finally found our way back to camp, and handed over the material to the req officer. She told us she would have it ready by noon tomorrow. With that information squared away, we settled down for the night. I went off with Fen to hunt for a nug or fennec. When we returned, everyone was seated for dinner. I ate some roasted vegetables, as usual, and bid everyone adieu.

I had a very trying time falling asleep, even with the comfort of Fen nuzzled up beside me. Her leg kicked in her sleep just as I was drifting off.

I was the first one up, a surprising change. We set off to explore just after dawn—some rifts had been spotted near a place called Morrin’s Steps on the coast. I was informed it was a small peninsula. I decided to take Fen—she was large enough to hunt on her own, she had to be almost fully grown—hopefully it wouldn’t be _too_ dangerous, and she could learn to handle battle.

Unfortunately, demons weren’t the _only_ thing populating the Steps.

“ _Fenedhis_ ,” I whispered beneath my breath. “Are those dragon-babies?”

“Good eye, Sun-Blossom,” Varric said, loading his crossbow. They were still a distance away, and hadn’t noticed us yet.

“We’re going to kill them, aren’t we?”

“If we do not,” Cassandra said, drawing her blade, “and they grow, think of how terrifying they will become and the damage they may do. They are most likely drakes, but one could be another High Dragon.”

“So we kill them to stymie _potential_ danger that may, in fact, never happen.” I groaned, looking down at Fen. Her ears were perked and she was staring at the dragonlings intensely.

“That’s the idea,” Varric countered.

“Hasn’t the decline of dragons been linked to the decline of magic in Thedas?” I asked, looking now to Solas. He cocked his head to the side, regarding me.

“Now that is an interesting idea,” he said, considering it. “I would caution against the supposition of correlation being _causation_ , however.”

I nodded, looking at the dragons. Hadn’t I read that somewhere, though? I supposed that, in this moment, it didn’t matter. Those dragonlings were between us and a rift. We approached cautiously—only then Cassandra was letting loose a battle cry and Varric was letting a bolt fly and Fen was running ahead of me. That made me panic more than anything.

“Fen!” I cried, darting after her, cursing myself for taking her with me. I knew which dragonling she was going for, and I froze it. She collided with the thing, teeth tearing at its icy neck. I shattered it with my stave and Fen was off, helping Cassandra with the dragonling to our left. I shocked the thing with a bolt of electricity, taking extra time with my aim.

“Herald!” Solas shouted, and I spun just as a dragonling lunged for my legs. I used Fade Step to escape, and suddenly Fen was beside me, growling at the baby dragon as it approached again. Solas sprinted up on my other side, and the three of us quite quickly took the poor thing down. It was the last one in sight. Angry and sad, I spun on Solas, eyes burning.

“What did you call me?”

The apostate sighed heavily and looked to be on the verge of rolling his eyes. “I did not want to call to Fen and have you think I was referring to your wolf, or to distract _her_ while she was attacking.”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that.”

“And what would you have me call you, then, to differentiate you from the wolf?” he said, gesturing at Fen as she sat back, ears up. There was blood on the corner of her snout, but I knew it was not her own.

“I can think of many things,” I said snippily. “ _Lethallan,_ for starters.” His eyes bored into my own, and as he opened his mouth to protest, I cut him off. “By the Dread Wolf, I’d take _seth’lin_. Or here’s a thought, _da’falon_?” I hadn’t meant to add ‘little;’ it just came out—most likely because I was used to being called that. Or…I had been, rather.

Solas looked as if I had slapped him. He inhaled sharply, and I swore I could see him counting to ten in his head. He was positively pink with anger. His eyes, when he looked up at me finally, _burned_. If I hadn’t known better—and I _really_ did—I would have said this tension was becoming something else entirely. But that…that was impossible.

“It might be easier if you just picked a different name, Sun-Blossom,” Varric said, walking up to us cautiously, trying to keep the peace.

“We do not have time for this discussion, at any rate.” Cassandra looked towards the two large hills, and the narrow valley between them. “There is a rift to be closed, and the Blades of Hessarian have yet to be dealt with.”

I looked down at Fen. She was well—no injuries. She had held up well against the dragons. I swallowed and nodded. Without looking back to Solas, I trudged ahead. The rift was by the water, down on the far side of the peninsula. It was harder to protect Fen during this fight. There were so many shades, a terror and a rage demon. The rage demon took a particular interest in Fen, so I had to keep freezing it, and spinning back to battle the terrors as they quite _literally_ popped up everywhere. By the end of the battle, she had lost a hefty chunk of fur from her tail, and one of her ears had been ripped. Solas knelt to heal her as I closed the rift above us.

Once I saw that Fen had in fact been healed, I turned to Cass and Varric. “Are you all okay? No injuries?”

“All good, Blossom.” Varric looked up to Cass. “And nothing even came close to touching our Seeker.”

“And you, Apostate? How are you?” Solas’ eyebrows went up and I continued. “You seem fond of titles—or maybe I should start calling you _Dalish_. That’s a title, in a way, and it’s also something you are not—just as I am _not_ a herald.”

“Shall I return to calling you _child_ , since you seem so devoted to behaving as such?”

I took a step closer to him, torn between admitting defeat and anger. “Stop _infantilizing_ me.” I poked him in the chest. “I’m not a child. I am not the Herald. I am a woman who knows her mind.”

“No one could debate that,” he countered. “You speak it so often and so freely, one would need to be deaf or rendered senseless for _that_ to escape notice.”

“If you could save the romantic tension,” Varric cut in, _again_ , “until you’re alone tonight or something, that would make things less awkward for everyone else.”

Cassandra made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat and folded her arms across her chest. “We need to get going. It shall be noon shortly, and the requisition officer may have what we need to confront this mercenary group.”

I turned my back on my fellow elf and marched forward. “What are we waiting for then?” I asked, maybe a touch more acidic than I had meant to be.

Fen followed at my heels, even as Varric said something under his breath—something, I was quite sure, about elven mages. By the time we made it back to camp, I had cooled down enough to realize I had been an ass—not that Solas hadn’t deserved it—he completely did—but an ass was I, nonetheless. As we were walking up the last steep incline, I caught Solas’ hand to get his attention. He jolted and turned to face me, clearly surprised.

“May I speak to you?”

Wariness entered his blue eyes, but he nodded once. “Of course.”

I waved Cass and Varric ahead. When Cass would have argued that we needed to _go_ , Varric simply nudged her along, telling her it would be faster if we got this sorted out. I think he was just relieved not to be caught in the middle of another tiff.

I released Solas’ hand and walked a few paces back to lean against one of the rocky outcrops. I worried my lower lip, gathered my courage, and turned to face him again. “I apologize. I was uncivil, and there is no excuse for my rudeness. I hope you can forgive me. I know it is difficult that Fen and I share a name for now. This is going to sound mad, I’m sure, but it feels _right_ that we do. I think…I think she and I are connected, especially now, after the healing of her leg.”

He watched me as I paced, his gaze intense. His expression did not change, which was somewhat unnerving. “You surprise me, yet again. And it seems that, despite my previous words, you refuse to let me distance myself from familiarity with you.”

I took a hesitant step towards him, relieved when he did not pull back. “You are familiar. I know…I know you can’t feel the same way about me that I do you,” a bitter smile, but I pushed on, “but does that mean you also cannot be my friend? I have so few; I cherish every opportunity to have one.”

His gaze met mine, and for a moment, he roiled with emotion. Then it was gone, closed behind a mask. I began to lose hope, but then he spoke and my heart skipped a beat.

“Friends,” he paused, then, “I am not entirely sure I remember how to do that here, out of the Fade. But I will…try,” another pause; a smile, “ _lethallan_.”

I smiled so brightly and wide I was sure my face would split. I flung myself at him and he caught me, looking alarmed. I wrapped him in a tight hug, trying not to cry.

“ _Ma serannas_ ,” I said, into his chest. He was warm and strong, and _fenedhis_ I did not want to let go. I pulled back to smile up at him again, then took his hand, leading him back to camp. “Come, _lethallin_ ; the others are waiting.”

We walked together to the encampment, his hand in my own. It was foolish of me to allow myself that small indulgence, but it felt so…so _good_ to hold his hand, to be close in some way. Varric was visibly relieved when he saw that we had made up. Cassandra just launched right to business, handing me the amulet—it had a serpenstone center and a deepstalker leather chain. I put it on and we ate a quick lunch before heading out—leaving Fen behind, to her sad cries. The scouts had a basic idea of where this place was—so we walked along the beach, the route they recommended. We came across a few more warriors, but dispatched them with ease.

We found the fort, the compound, whatever it was, just inland from the sea. Wooden pillars and pikes surrounded it, painted with brightly colored hounds. Two guards stood at attention just outside its main doors. I approached, crest bare on my chest, and one said to the other, “Someone’s come with a challenge?”

“The others failed,” her companion countered, low, beneath his breath.

I ignored them and pushed the gates open. They did not stop me. I also ignored the corpses hanging above us. A warning, I supposed. The inside was similar—a few cabins, their rooves covered with moss and their walls bedecked with similar paintings. Their leader stood between two caged hounds. He was of moderate height, pale, and with a large blond beard that begged to be shaved.

“So,” he said as I approached, taking note of my crest, “you would challenge the Blades of Hessarian?”

“You killed soldiers of the Inquisition,” I said, fire burning in my gullet. I did not want to kill—but I wanted to stop him. No one else would die at his behest. No other family would lose a child, a sibling, to his will. “We cannot let this stand.”

“You want justice?” he said with a laugh. “Claim it.” He threw his head back and let loose a battle cry. His hounds were released and they charged. I was very glad Fen was back at camp—though she was of comparable size, they had more experience in battle than she.

My party and I managed to take out the dogs first, and then we felled the leader with ease. Cass body slammed him, forcing him to his knees. I sent the killing blow—a final bolt of lightning that stopped his heart. He fell forward, collapsed and unmoving. I stepped back, breathing heavily, my heart weighted.

“It’s done.”

“Provided no one stabs you in the back on the way out,” Varric supplied helpfully. I shot him a look.

One of the members of this group approached me, looking hesitant. He had a brown mullet, pale skin and his face was rather familiar, as if I had seen it a hundred times before. Perhaps he was related to someone in the Inquisition? Or maybe all Fereldens looked the same.

“Your worship,” he said. “The Blades of Hessarian are at your service. If you want eyes on the coast,” he shrugged, “here we are.”

“I’ve not heard of your group before,” Cassandra said, still unsure how she felt about having recruited these people to our cause.

“Our work is often misunderstood,” he said to the Seeker, then turned back to me, “but we serve Andraste—and whoever proves worthy of wielding us.”

“You will be loyal to the Inquistion?”

“We’re loyal to _you_. I suppose that’s the same thing, Your Worship.”

I closed my eyes and did my best not to scream. More of this Herald nonsense. I could not escape it, no matter how desperate I was to do so.

“So,” I said, changing the subject, “There’s no ill will over what happened with your former boss?”

“That man,” our new agent said pointedly, “was a bastard. You’re not the first to stand up to him. You’re just the first to win, and we’re happy with that. Besides,” he folded his arms across his chest, “I would rather swear my life to the Herald of Andraste.”

Before I could explain that I was _not_ the Herald, Cassandra was leading me out of the encampment. We decided to explore the area before heading back to camp, and look for more rifts. We found a few more, closed them and made it back to our encampment by nightfall. While we had been out, we had found some information on the Wardens—nothing definitive, just that they had been in the area. I regretted that Blackwall hadn’t been with us, but we would share the information we had discovered with him. We ate heartily, knowing that tomorrow would begin our journey back to the Hinterlands.

The journey back took an extra day due to the heavy rains we experienced leaving the Storm Coast. We made it to camp mid-afternoon four days later. As we dismounted, I looked to Cass.

“Cass…do you think we should go to Redcliffe while we are here? Fiona did say to meet her there to discuss a potential alliance.”

The seeker landed with a decided stomp to her boots as she slid off of her mount and onto the hard ground. She looked at me steadily, her hands gripping the reins of her mount tightly. “You think that so wise a course? We do not know if these mages are trustworthy, let alone what we might be walking into in Redcliffe.”

I shook my head, brushing her concerns aside. “We need to go to Redcliffe. Call it a gut feeling. Just trust me—it isn’t the mages we have to worry about.”

It was too late in the day to set out, so we helped around the crossroads again. We distributed food and supplies, patched buildings, hunted a few more rams, all before turning in for the night. Varric, disgusted by our talks of Duke Calloway, had undergone a ‘re-education of good literature’ with myself and Cassandra, slightly offended when he discovered that I had not read _Hard in Hightown_. He had been reading to us each night, a chapter or thereabouts, over each dinner. Tonight was no different. It made the time pass, and was fun to hear. Varric was indeed the superior story-crafter, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to finish the Calloway series once we returned to Haven.

The next morning, we set out for Redcliffe. Cassandra convinced me to leave Fen at camp, so as to not terrify the villagers who had probably seen enough to disrupt their lives already these last few weeks. She whined as we left, but did not follow. One of the scouts was given the express responsibility of making sure she was looked after while I was away. He did not seem to particularly want the task, but did not disagree outright.

On our way through bandit-infested roads, we ran into another Dalish—a woman who introduced herself as Mihris. She was here to investigate an Elven artifact that measured the Veil, or so she claimed. She thought it might tell us where new rifts would appear, and that if we teamed up, it would be easier to get to—through all the shades and wisps.

I glanced at Solas for his thoughts. He inclined his head. “I _do_ sense an artifact of my people. It very well may behoove us to investigate this.”

I nodded, turning back to my fellow Dalish mage. “All right, Mihris. We’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” she said, relieved. “It shouldn’t be too much farther ahead.”

It wasn’t. I had to rearrange a small collapse of pillars outside the cavern where this artifact was housed, and we had to slay several demons, but it was easy and quick enough. When we paused by the entrance, one of the braziers felt…different than the others. Hesitantly, I reached out with my magic, examining it. Instantly, it burst to life with green flame.

“I have heard of this but never seen it before,” Solas said beside me. “It is called veilfire.” He examined the torch I lit with it, clearly fascinated. “It is a form of sympathetic magic, a memory of flame that burns in this world where the veil is thin.”

“I wish I had your knowledge,” I said, ardently, trying not to gaze at him with puppy-dog eyes. “It is so vast…it must make navigating this uncharted territory so much easier.”

He looked taken aback, but slowly his surprise melted into a smile. “I think that is the finest compliment I could be given.”

“So we’re taking the magical fire with us?” Varric asked, only half-sarcastic.

“There!” Mihris called, anxious to be finished with our task. “If we activate that crystal, it should react to the strength of the Veil!”

As I approached the crystal in question, I had time to notice the interior of these caverns, and how…disturbing they were. Skulls were carved into pillars, not to mention the bones that lay pell-mell around the open space. I approached the large globe, feeling it pulse with potential energy, waiting for…something.

“That is it,” Solas said, only a step behind, “the elven artifact I sensed.”

Using my marked hand, I touched the thing. Power jumped from me to it, and it started crackling with green energy, buzzing and alive and so very vibrant.

“Yes,” Solas murmured, stepping closer. “The wards are helping to strengthen the Veil. This area should be safer for travelers now.”

“Well,” Mihris chirped happily, kneeling at one of the alters, “that should prove useful. And it seems the ancestors left something for me as well. Interesting.” She stood, holding an amulet in her hands. “I believe our alliance is concluded. Go in peace, stranger.”

“ _Ma halani_ ,” Solas said beside me, his eyes focused, intense, “ _ma glandival. Vir enasalin_.”

“I…” Mihris paused, then nodded, holding it out to my apostate friend. “Perhaps you are right. Here. Take it.” She inhaled sharply. “Go with Mythal’s blessing.”

She did not linger. I looked from the amulet to Solas, head cocked to the side as I wondered. I could feel power emanating from it, and wanted to ask him what it might do—but that could wait. There was something twinkling against the far wall. I brought the veilfire closer.

“What are those runes?” Varric asked, moving up beside me. “Never seen their like before.”

Solas stepped up beside the dwarf, leaning over him to get a better look. “The veilfire must be making the runes legible.”

“It looks like a fire rune,” I said, noticing how Cassandra quickly sketched it into a small journal she had removed from her side bag.

“A weapon enchantment,” the Seeker said. “This could be quite useful.”

“Let’s not linger here,” I said, looking around. “This place feels…strange.”

The others agreed, and we set back out on our journey. We ran into a few more bandits, and took care of them—they would not stop to talk, to listen to reason, and so we had to kill them. We found a good place to set up camp near Redcliffe, but did not stop. There was daylight left.

The dirt road up to the city was lined with a crumbling stone wall, with trees of all color flanking either side. The dirt gave way to cobble, speckled with puddles here and there, and rather quickly the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. There was a rift nearby.

“Redcliffe village should be just ahead,” our warrior said, her stride picking up.

I didn’t acknowledge that she had spoken—it was unnecessary. A soldier of unknown origin, probably from Redcliffe, was running towards us, shouting orders behind her. “I want a constant watch on that damned thing! Sound the alarm at the first sign of demons!” She spotted us, understood our course and held out her hands. “Watch out, traveler! The Veil’s ripped open, and Maker-knows-what cold come out!”

I smiled at her, shouted out a brief thanks for the warning, and sped up my pace. There were a few shades, some wisps, but nothing that could even hope to injure us. We defeated them quickly, and I braced myself, planting my feet firmly apart to close the rift that was cutting off a gate into Redcliffe village. As it closed, time seemed to speed up and slow down simultaneously—I saw someone running, slowed, even as we seemed to speed our own pace. Then, it was as if a bubble popped and time skipped to catch up. I stared, shaking slightly, and turned to my companions.

“What…was that?”

“We don’t know what these rifts can do. That one appeared to alter the time around it,” Cassandra said, absolutely nonplussed.

I shook my head at her, touching my hair to brush it back. “No…that was _not_ normal.”

“Nothing about this is ‘normal,’ Blossom,” Varric said, though I did note that his smile was a little tight around the edges.

The soldier whom we had passed slowed, trotting up to us, her eyes wide. “Maker have mercy! It’s over? Open the gates!”

The gates to the village rolled up, exposing soldiers kneeling and praying beyond. I looked at Solas, wondering if he had any idea what could be going on. He shook his head, just slightly. I sighed, squared my shoulders, and marched on. One of our scouts was there, waiting for me.

“We’ve spread word the Inquisition was coming,” he said, looking a bit confused, “but you should know that no one here was expecting us.”

I contained my surprise, but only just. “No one? What about Fiona—surely she was aware…?”

“If she was,” he said, spreading his hands and shrugging, “she hasn’t told anyone.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. This was…as strange as it was, I can’t say that I was truly shocked. I had known something was going to go awry; I just hadn’t known what. I looked the scout in the eye. “Can you make arrangements to meet in the tavern for negotiations?”

He nodded, stepping back as an elven mage jogged up to meet us. He was slender, and his hair was slicked back, making his head look almost helmeted. “Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies!” he cried, smiling and I could tell it was _not_ a happy smile. “Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn’t yet arrived. He’s expected shortly. It would be appropriate for you to speak with the former grand enchanter in the meantime.”

I stared at him blankly. “Former?”

He smiled again, somewhat tightly. “All will be explained. I shall inform Alexius that you shall be in the tavern, was it?”

I nodded, then watched him give a small bow, the tough fur of his pauldrons bouncing slightly with the motion. As we stood, Solas came to stand near me. When he spoke, his voice was low, the pitch deep. Despite the situation and circumstances surrounding us, it sent shivers up my spine and across my skin.

“The Veil is weaker here than in Haven. And not merely weak but altered in a way I have not seen.”

Cassandra shook her head, plainly upset by this turn of events. Then again, she hadn’t been happy at the idea of recruiting the mages to begin with. “We should talk to the grand enchanter.”

With a heavy sigh, I began a quick but easy jog towards the center of the village—the tavern was sure to be there. We moved past the keep and down the slight hillside, towards the port and village itself. The air was fresh, but tinged slightly with the scent of fish. In the distance, just across the lake, I could see the castle rising up out of the clouds, majestic and somewhat other-worldly. I knew that castle as if I had been inside of it. As we jogged into the center of the village, we passed its residents, mostly discussing recent events—including the Inquisition. There was an interesting woman standing beneath the totem of a mabari, wearing an orange dress with a deep, forest green skirt, but we did not have time to learn about her. Perhaps later.

Cassandra decided to take the time to plant an Inquisition flag beneath a statue of a large…was it a griffon or a dragon? I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter—I took the moment to get directions to the tavern. Once we knew where we were going, we set off again. The tavern itself was little different from the surrounding buildings and shops—the only thing that really set it apart were the wooden stairs leading up to it and the swinging signs hanging on either side of the door.

Thankfully, Fiona was waiting for us inside. She showed no recognition when we met. “Welcome, agents of the Inquisition. What has brought you to Redcliffe?”

I blinked rapidly. “Is…is this a joke? You told us to come when you were at Val Royeaux.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “You must be mistaken. I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”

“Uh huh…well, you have a doppelganger because someone who looked _just_ like you, and used your name too, invited us here.”

She seemed genuinely startled. “Exactly like me? I suppose it could be magic at work, but why would anyone…?” She stopped herself and looked down, clearly pained. “Whoever…or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already…pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.”

Cassandra was flabbergasted. “An alliance with Tevinter? Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?”

“Andraste’s ass,” Varric muttered, looking at the Seeker. “I’m trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done.” He turned his gaze to Fiona, shaking his head. “And I’ve got nothing.”

Solas, at the very least, was more…diplomatic. “I understand that you are afraid, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, nearly seething at the idea of a Tevinter magister taking advantage of this poor people’s plight, “I will make sure no ill comes of this. Where is this magister?”

Fiona shook her head, no longer looking so sorrowful, her mask back in place. She was still a leader, even if her title had been stripped. “As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.”

I clenched my hands into fists. “The Imperium,” I said softly, feeling a burning in my chest. How much damage was that country looking to inflict outside of its own borders now? Were they hoping to get more slaves, as they had during the Blight?

“Most of Thedas blames us for the Divine’s death. The templar attacks grew worse, and we mages had no allies.” Her expression finally melted into the despair she clearly had been holding back, then desperation. “Either my people made a last stand here in Redcliffe, or we took the only offer of help extended to us.” She shook her head. “I had to save them. I had no other choice.”

Just as I was going to reassure her that I would see her _and_ her people safe, the tavern door swung open and a middle-aged man in the strangest headdress I had seen to date swaggered in. I would _never_ understand Tevinter fashion. And his stupid little half-goatee—everything about him made me angry.

“Welcome, my friends! I apologize for not greeting you earlier.” He smiled, looking so very smug. I wanted to slap that smile across the room.

“Agents of the Inquisition,” Fiona said, still looking despondent, “allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius.”

He smirked as he sauntered up, his eyes shining with glee and self-satisfaction. “The southern mages are under my command. And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting.”

I ignored the introductions. “I haven’t seen any sign of Redcliffe’s arl or his men. What did you do to them?”

“The arl of Redcliffe left the village,” he said simply, moving to position himself between me and Fiona.

Before I could say something to escalate the situation, Cassandra cut in. “Arl Teagan did not abandon his lands during the Blight, even when they were under siege.”

“There were…tensions growing. I did not want an incident.” He looked _almost_ remorseful. A cunning act, but a lie nonetheless.

“So you politely asked him to leave, and he conveniently obliged.” I shook my head, doing my best not to sneer. We needed diplomacy, at least at first, to determine what this man was capable of. “You’re quite a long way from Tevinter, Alexius.” It was _almost_ a threat.

“Indeed I am,” he said, smirking once again, “though I have heard you are no Fereldan, either. It seems we are both strangers here.”

I smiled, showing my teeth. “Strangers we may be, but I have found a home in the Inquisition.”

Alexius laughed, moving to one of the tables. He motioned for me to sit. “That you have. Felix,” he said, turning to the handsome young man who had accompanied him, “would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends.”

Despite his clean cut good looks, the young man looked a touch ill—circles under his eyes, the slight pallor to his skin. He bowed, and retreated to fetch the scribe. Alexius returned his attentions to me, smiling as he leaned back, examining me. “I am not surprised you’re here. Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt.” He leaned forward, one side of his mouth curving up. “There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed.”

“I’ve never been one to be intimidated by odds,” I said, sitting ramrod straight, “especially when they are in my favor.”

“You have quite the confidence to—”

Felix returned, took a step forward, and stumbled slightly. I stood abruptly, ready to catch him if he fell—which indeed he did, directly into my waiting arms.

“Felix!” his father cried, standing and radiating concern as he approached his son. So the man cared about _something_.

“I’m so sorry,” Felix said, slipping something into my palm. “Please forgive my clumsiness, my lady.”

I inclined my head, deftly hiding the note. He wrapped an arm around his stomach, and I realized that I needn’t have bothered. Alexius’ attention was all on his son; some sort of wasting illness? The man in the stupid headgear approached Felix, one hand extended to steady him. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Father.”

Alexius was not convinced. “Come, I’ll get your powders. Please excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time. Fiona,” he turned to the mage, looking pained, and said, “I require your assistance back at the castle.”

She nodded, not looking too happy herself, and the three left, Felix casting a look over his shoulder. “I don’t mean to trouble everyone,” was all he said.

Alexius paused, his back to me. “I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date.”

I watched him go, and waited until I was sure they were completely out of sight. Then I unfolded the note, and read it aloud. “Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.”

With a small burst of magic, I burned the note and let the ash tumble to the floorboards. I shrugged and turned to my companions, smiling. “Well, I suppose we should dive in head first to the unknown.”

“There’s only ever one way to find things out,” Varric replied, not missing a beat.

As we were walking out, a tranquil caught my eye. When he noticed my gaze, he inclined his head. “Magister Alexius wishes only mages to remain in Redcliffe. He will approve of you. He does not approve of me.” He cocked his head the other direction. “Many villagers have already left to escape his ire.”

I frowned, my anger at the magister bubbling up in my chest again. “What does he have against you? The fact that you are tranquil?”

“He does not like to be reminded of what mages can become. He says all Tranquil must leave Redcliffe, but who would take us in?”

“I will,” I said sternly. “You go to Haven. We will find work for you.”

The tranquil gave the smallest of bows. “Thank you. While one lives, it is good to believe there is still a use for one’s talents.”

I clapped the man on the shoulder, and we departed. There was much to do. We headed out, jogging once again past the inhabitants of Redcliffe, passing a Chantry Mother who was standing by herself beneath a stone archway. It was odd—I hadn’t seen many others from the Chantry in the village. Something to worry about later, I supposed. As we ran up the steps to the Chantry, I could feel…something. Something was happening inside—it felt like a rift. Great. Just what we needed.

I swung the door open and dashed in, hearing sounds of a scuffle. There was a young man with perfectly coiffed hair that defied the situation he was in, battling with a lesser shade.

“Good!” he exclaimed, once the shade was down. “You’re finally here! No help me close this, would you?”

The rift glowed large and bright in the darkness of the Chantry, covering the altar completely. I gripped my staff, pulling it out from its ties on my back. The others fell into battle as if it were any other daily routine—which it sadly had become. We destroyed the demons, mostly without damage. I had a few scrapes by the end, but nothing serious, certainly nothing that prevented me from closing the rift. The young man—Dorian, I think—watched, marveling.

“Fascinating,” he said, somewhat breathless. “How does that work, exactly?”

I looked at the mark, then back up to him. “It uses energy from the Fade. That’s all I can really tell.”

“Ha! You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes.” He shook his head, grinning.

I shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Who are you?” Cassandra demanded from behind me.

“Ah!” He chuckled. “Getting ahead of myself again, I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

His moustache was distracting; I wanted to tweak it, or twirl it.

“Another Tevinter,” Cassandra said, sneering. “Be cautious with this one.”

Dorian looked from the group behind me, back to myself, a small smile tugging his lips upwards. His eyeliner was absolutely perfect, even after battle. I wondered, rather insipidly—especially given the situation—, if it wasn’t thanks to magic. “Suspicious friends you have here. Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable—as I’m sure you can imagine.”

I looked about, somewhat perplexed. “I appreciate the offer, but I was expecting Felix to be here.”

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Dorian said flippantly. “He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father.”

This mage was completely calm, as if he hadn’t just battled down demons and watched me seal a rift in the fabric of this world itself. Which made me wonder…”You’re betraying your mentor because…?”

“Alexius _was_ my mentor,” he corrected. “Meaning he’s not any longer, not for some time.” He sighed dramatically and gave me a flat stare. “Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you.” His eyebrows drew down and he looked at me sternly. “As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

I felt my palms get sweaty. Of course! How could I have no seen that? It had been on the tip of my brain. “He arranged it so he could arrive here just after the Divine died! That explains that time burp when we closed the rift outside of the village walls.”

“‘Time burp?’” Varric muttered, maybe to Cass. I didn’t turn around to look.

“You catch on quick,” Dorian said, eyeing me speculatively.

Solas' smooth voice broke me out of my thoughts. “That is fascinating, if true…and almost certainly dangerous.”

“The rift you closed here?” Dorian prompted, regaining my attention. “You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. The time burp, if you must.” His expression was concerned. I wanted to reassure him that I would make sure Alexius’ plans were stopped, but now was not the time. “Soon,” he continued, “there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

“I believe you.”

“I know what I’m talking about. I helped develop—wait,” he stopped, looking genuinely shocked. “You believe me? I have to admit; I was not expecting that.” He shook his head once, a small smile curving his lips. “When I was still his apprentice,” he said, quickly moving on, “it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is _why_ he’s doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

“He didn’t do it for them,” Felix said, walking up, looking pale still, but no longer acting sick.

I had to say, I was not surprised to see him.

“Took you long enough. Is he getting suspicious?” Dorian quipped, smile in place.

“No,” Felix said, not returning the friendly gesture, presumably too upset by the situation. “I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.” He turned to me. “My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves ‘Venatori.’” His mouth quirked now, but it was not a happy smile. “And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

I hadn’t been expecting that. To get to me? That wasn’t right; he was doing this for Felix, wasn’t he? To save…Felix? The thought slipped from my mind, as fleeting as a feather caught in a breeze.

“That…that doesn’t seem right. Why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to me?” _A stupid question_ , I thought, looking at my hand.

“They’re obsessed with you, but I don’t know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“You _can_ close the rifts,” Dorian cut in. “Maybe there’s a connection? Or they see you as a threat?”

Wiggling the fingers on my left hand, I stared at the mark. It definitely had something to do with this. I could _almost_ see it—and that drove me mad. To be so close…

Felix shook me out of my internalized anger. “I love my father, and I love my country. But this? Cults? Time magic? What he’s doing now is madness.” Any trace he might have had before of a smile was gone. “For his own sake, you have to stop him.”

“It would also be nice if he didn’t rip a hole in time,” Dorian added, gesturing with his hands. “There’s already a hole in the sky.”

Snorting back a sardonic laugh, I folded my arms across my chest. “All this for me? And here I didn’t get Alexius anything. I suppose I’ll have to remedy that.”

Dorian’s response made me laugh out loud. “Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those.” My laughter dissolved into a smile as he continued, somewhat more soberly. “You know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage.”

I inclined my head. “I do appreciate the warning to confirm my suspicions.”

“I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I want to keep it that way for now,” he said, returning my smile. “But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch.” He turned to walk away, then paused. “And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed.”

Felix’s answering smile was small, pensive. “There are worse things than dying, Dorian.”

Both of the young men left through different exits. We waited a few moments, long enough for me to admire the stained glass above the pulpit, and then left ourselves.

“This whole business is distasteful,” Cassandra said once we were outside. “Perhaps we are better off pursuing the templars instead.”

Varric shook his head. “I’d bet you ten royals whatever the templars are doing is just as weird.”

I laughed, my eyes crinkling at that. “Oh, Varric. You have no idea how true that is. Time or demons—the choice is not a good one.”

“What do you mean, Fen?” Cassandra asked, tilting her head.

Oh, _fenedhis_ —had I said that out _loud_? There was no helping me. I was completely hopeless.

“Fen and I were speculating that perhaps the reason that your Lord Seeker Lucius behaved so erratically at Val Royeaux was due to possession,” Solas supplied easily, not batting an eyelash.

“You truly think so?” Cassandra said, surprised. Her hazel eyes widened just a fraction as the implication of that sunk in. “He…his will was so strong; it is difficult for me to think that he might have succumbed.”

“We can speculate later,” I said, noticing how Solas gazed at me sternly once the others had given him their backs. I understood exactly what he meant—do not do that again. They would not understand that an ancient Elvhen deity had brought me to Thedas for the express purpose of stopping this catastrophe. “Right now we need to go back to Haven to give the others the news.”

As we were making our way back to camp, back to Fen, the elven mage who had stopped us earlier once again got our attention.

“You’re from the Inquisition. I didn’t think you’d still be here.” He gazed at me, somewhat in disbelief. “Were you really looking to _ally_ with us?”

“I want to end this war, and do so without sending you back to Circles.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I could positively feel the disapproval radiating out of Cassandra. She said nothing, however.

The mage’s eyes lit. “There has to be a way, right? We’re not what they think: all blood mages and abominations. We just want to be normal. Have families. Use our magic to…to help grow our crops or something. We _never_ wanted war. What choice did we have? Stay and be slaves?”

“Sometimes,” Solas said, his voice heavy, “to achieve the world one desires, one must take regrettable measures.”

“I…” the young mage looked down, then back up. “I hope you can do something. Tying ourselves to Tevinter…? That can’t be the right way to end this.”

“Tevinter is no better than the Chantry—very possibly worse, with the sole exception of creation of tranquil.” I clasped his arm in farewell. “I will do all I can to free you—to free all of you. Take care of yourself in the meanwhile—there’s something very strange going on.”

We parted ways, and made it back to camp by nightfall. For the first time in a long while, I slept soundly beside Fen, though Solas’ words haunted me while I wandered the Fade—regrettable measures. He blamed himself for something—and I was fairly certain it was not his fault. Well…not _entirely_ so.

On our way back to Haven, Cassandra was a touch more reticent to speak to me. I think she took my remarks about mage freedom rather personally, given her position. All that considered, she didn’t denounce me outright or clap me in irons. Perhaps…perhaps I could convince her to see why freedom was so very priceless. It would take work, but I was willing. Cassandra was worth it.

We made it back to Haven in maybe three days, maybe two and a half. Blackwell was stationed outside the stables. I nodded to him when I had finished dismounting. The Iron Bull was nearby as well, and I stopped for a moment to welcome him and the Chargers to the Inquisition, but then I was off to meet with the advisors. Only I was stopped by Leliana who informed me that some of our soldiers had gone missing. I stared at her, tired, a little achy from all that riding, but immediately alert. Fen by my side sensed the change in my energy, and her hackles rose slightly.

“Have we sent out any scouts to find any information on them?”

Leliana nodded, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she met my eye. “They’ve been found in a bog called the Fallow Mire. Harding reports that they are being held hostage by Avvar who demand to meet you, the Herald of Andraste, if the Inquisition wants to see them alive again.”

“Get me fresh horses,” I said, already turning. “I’m going. Redcliffe will have to wait—Cassandra or Varric can fill you all in. Ask the others, if you would, who would be willing to go with me. But I want to leave within the hour.”

Leliana nodded, walking quickly behind me. “I will see to it. But are you sure you do not need rest—”

I shook my head firmly, one hand on Fen’s head to help keep me calm. “No. They need me. I can rest when they do.”

I sensed that she nodded, and then she was gone, disappearing to do as I had asked. I packed with fresh goods quickly, and only stopped when I noticed Fen perk up and look at the door to my cabin.

“Herald!” the door opened without preamble, and in walked my advisors and Cassandra. Cullen looked none too pleased. I stared at him, my jaw set, ready to defend whatever action I had done that had irked him. “I cannot believe that you plan on going after the mages.” He produced a sheaf of paper, signed with flourish—Alexius. “That magister has personally invited you—and _only_ you—to Redcliffe castle.”

“Can’t this wait until I get back from the Fallow Mire?”

“No,” he snapped, obviously worried, “if only because I do not trust that you will not try to infiltrate that castle on your own before returning.”

I almost rolled my eyes, but stopped myself—he was right; the Fallow Mire was so close to Redcliffe, I would probably end up going there after the rescue, without returning to Haven first.

“We don’t have the manpower to take the castle by force,” he said sternly. “Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the templars!”

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister,” Cassandra put in, clearly exasperated herself. “This cannot be allowed to stand.”

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name—well, title. It’s an obvious trap,” Josephine said, surprising me. I had thought she would want to recruit the mages.

“My title,” I said, trying not to groan. “Of course. What does he say?”

“He’s so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you,” Leliana added calmly.

“Not this again,” Josie groaned.

“Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults,” Cullen snapped, trying to put his foot down. He turned, looking me dead in the eye. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.”

My eyebrows shot up of their own accord. I caught myself to keep from snapping, but Fen let out a low growl. Cullen looked down at her, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. He looked back to me, his expression quizzical.

“And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius,” Leliana said, “we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!”

“Even if we could assault the keep,” Josie cut in, trying to keep the peace, “it would be for naught. An ‘Orelesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

“Orlesian—” I began.

“The magister—” Cassandra said simultaneously, only to be cut off by Cullen.

“Has outplayed us.”

“No!” I said, perhaps more irritably than I had meant to; it had been a long day, a long few weeks, and I could not rest until those soldiers— _and_ the mages—were safe. “We can’t just give up. There has to be some way in.”

“We cannot accept defeat now,” Cassandra seconded. “There must be a solution. Other than the main gate, there’s got to be another way into the castle. A sewer? A water course? Something?”

Cullen shook his curly head. “There’s nothing I know of that would work.”

I looked at Leliana a moment before she spoke, anticipating this solution.

“Wait,” she said, not disappointing me. “There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family.” She folded her arms behind her, rocking back onto her heels. “It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

“Too risky,” Cullen said, shaking his head again as he gazed at the spymaster. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

“So we give him me,” I said, not glancing at Fen when she looked at me abruptly. “I’ll be the perfect distraction.”

Our ex-templar relaxed his stance slightly, one hand going to rest on his pommel. “While they’re focused on you, we break the Magister’s defenses. It could work, but it’s a huge risk.”

“Fortunately, you’ll have help,” a familiar voice said from the doorway. One of our scouts was following closely behind him. My cabin was getting cramped, rather quickly.

“This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander,” the scout said, by way of an apology for interrupting.

Dorian stood next to me, looking slightly surprised to see a wolf resting at my feet. I was more concerned about the straps coming over his shoulder. What…was the point? Did it serve some function, other than fashion?

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.” He looked down at Fen again. “You Fereldens and your dogs.”

“Not a dog,” I corrected, and added, “and I’m no Ferelden.”

Cullen brought us back to topic. “The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

I inclined my head respectfully, then turned to our new mage friend. “Well, Dorian, we’re making a stop on the way—to the Fallow Mire. If you want to come with us, you’re going to get a little…damp. But I hear autumn is the best time to visit a bog!”

Dorian stared at me in disbelief. “You have got to be joking. This _is_ a jest, is it not? We do not have time for a stop in a…a Ferelden swamp.”

“I have soldiers who have been captured. We’re going to rescue them. And then we’re going to stop Alexius. And then we’re going to close the Breach—saving the world, one step at a time.” I smiled at him, and slapped his shoulder. “I hope you’re packed. We’re leaving in ten.” I walked past his look of disbelief and whistled low to Fen. She stood, stretched, and padded after me on silent paws. Nearly all of my companions were waiting by the horses. It took a few minutes to sort out who would go, and who would stay. We needed speed to get to those soldiers, so the fewer the better.

“I will take three of you—including Dorian, who is insisting on coming.” I glanced back as the Tevinter mage came up, a small bag slung over his exposed shoulder. Cassandra was with him, looking determined.

“Cass, you stay here and rest—”

“This Inquisition was begun at my behest,” Cassandra said grimly. “I will not allow its soldiers to suffer when I can assist. I _am_ going.”

I could have kissed her. She was a fantastic leader. I turned to Bull and Blackwall. “Okay; you two stay here.”

“Why did you recruit me if you don’t intend to use me?” Blackwall demanded. “You may need a Warden when you face these mages.”

I shook my head. “Don’t misunderstand; we need magic to fight magic, or at least distance weaponry. One warrior is more than enough to defend us against melee attacks. And I need you both here helping Cullen. As soon as I get back with the mages, we’re marching on the Breach. I need you to get our soldiers ready for battle. It _will_ follow.”

Bull pounded his fist into his palm. “That we can do, though I doubt Cullen needs much help on that front. He’s doing well with the recruits.”

“They need to be ready for anything,” I said. “That will include fighting under different conditions, against different opponents. I don’t know how many Qunari they will have had the pleasure sparring with. Please, Bull.”

Iron Bull raised his good eyebrow and smiled—or, really, _smirked_. “I got it. The Chargers and Blackwall and I will whip them into shape.”

I grinned. “I’m counting on it.”

“So who else does that leave, yeah?” Sera demanded, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m not…I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get these mages. Look at the mess they’ve caused.”

“We’re not discussing that,” I said simply. “It’s happening. If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay—though I would hate to lose you. You’re going to make an excellent ally, I can tell. But you by no means need to come for _this_ particular endeavor.”

She looked relieved, and nodded. “I’m not skippin’ out on ya yet. I just…magic is _wonky_. Ya can’t trust it.”

I tried to not take that _too_ personally. Everyone had fears; I hoped I could help her overcome hers through my actions—prove to her that mages _could_ be trusted. “Vivienne?” I asked, turning to our other mage.

“While I do not agree with rewarding these rebel mages for their crimes, I understand if you need my expertise,” she said, glancing at Solas from the corner of her eye, “rather than those with less experience.”

Solas quirked an auburn brow at that. “Ah, I should try, in my own fumbling way, to learn from how you helped seal the rifts at Haven.” He paused, considering. “Ah, wait. My memory misleads me. You were not there.”

“Solas,” I said, exasperated at these two already. “We just came back from a long trip—if you want to stay here and recuperated, I would understand. You could help the few mages we’ve already gathered here—”

“I will not abandon you now, _lethallan_ , not when you need one of my experience most. Who knows what you will encounter at Redcliffe?”

Vivienne snorted delicately behind a hand, glancing askance. Solas looked at the elegant mage, taking her in completely before saying, “The fact that I, an apostate, have not been enslaved by demons must be quite vexing, Enchanter.”

“Not at all, darling,” Vivienne replied smoothly. “You clearly have an exceptional gift for the Fade.”

“You flatter me,” he replied, eyeing her skeptically.

“I’m far more surprised that you haven’t been murdered by terrified villagers wielding pitchforks.”

His eyebrows went up again. “Yes, packing all the mages into towers and threatening them with templars certainly kept them _safe_.”

“It did, until a rogue apostate destroyed Kirkwall’s Chantry and started a fight most mages did not want.”

“Your Circle was a tightly clamped lid on a boiling pot. It held for a while, and, unless you looked inside, it all seemed fine. And everyone feigned surprise when it finally burst.”

“ _Enough_ ,” I said, putting my foot down. Fen let out a soft growl, her hackles up, reacting to my stress. I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to calm down. I touched her gently on the ear, and she sat down, relaxing slowly. “Vivienne, you will stay here. Help train what mages we have. Get them ready for battle. Solas,” I looked at him, “you will come with me. I—” I stopped, suddenly overwhelmed by an image of the apostate riddled with red lyrium, his eyes glowing crimson. My air left me in a whoosh, and it took a good deal to get on with things as if nothing had happened. “A-and Varric,” I said, turning to the dwarf, “I know you hate this sort of work, but would you help Josie? We need our stocks managed and inventoried, and I want supplies cached in the mountains behind Haven—up towards Orzammar—maybe over the next seventy miles: blankets, nonperishable food stuffs and medical supplies.”

He looked at me as if I had grown another head. “Caches…stashed in the mountains? Towards Orzammar?”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I know. It’s weird. Just trust me.”

“Okay, Blossom, whatever you say.” He shrugged, looking up at me. “You be careful out there without me. No getting lost on the way to relieve the call of nature at night—make sure you keep that ball of twine with you.” He snorted, smiling, and muttered, “just like Daisy.”

I felt my throat get a little tight at that. _He must miss them terribly_. I gave him a quick hug, much to his shock and protest, and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Softie.”

“‘Softie!’” he exclaimed, though he was smiling. “I take offense to that.”

I grinned at him right back, mounting my horse with a little more dignity than I had originally done, so many weeks ago. “Yeah, yeah. It’s about time someone gave _you_ a nickname,” I said, then whistled to Fen to follow as we set out for the Fallow Mire.

“Think of a better one!” he called after us. I grinned at him over my shoulder, and then we were rounding the bend, and he was out of sight. It was strange, leaving him behind. I didn’t like it. I felt like a tiny piece of my heart stayed with him, but I supposed that’s what friendship meant—leaving a piece of yourself behind, and taking a piece of them with you, so that you were never alone. As much as it twisted my heart to not have him there, telling his stories, it also gave me comfort.

It was hours before anyone spoke. Cassandra looked as focused and determined as I felt. We had people—our people—waiting for us. Depending on us. It churned in my gut. Dorian was the one to break the silence, to pull me out of the darkness of my thoughts.

“Solas, I take it you study spirits?” he queried, polite as could be.

“I do,” the hedgemage replied.

“Back in my homeland, we keep spirits as servants.”

Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. I shot Dorian a look, hoping he could read from my expression to _shut up_.

“So I’ve been told,” Solas said, his voice a little tight. Dorian went on, oblivious to both of us.

“The things they can be made to be are quite marvelous; you should see them.”

“The Tevinter Imperium is not the safest place for an elf,” Solas pointed out, his tone just _this_ shy of accusatory.

“Ah, yes. Point taken,” Dorian said, finally understanding. He sat a moment, then to my absolute disbelief, he continued as if he had not been rebuked. “Do you use spirits as servants, Solas? You’d have no trouble capturing them.”

I ran my hand over my face. “Dorian—”

“No,” Solas said, cutting me off. “They are intelligent, living creatures. Binding them against their will is reprehensible.”

Dorian snorted, looking miffed. “How much ‘will’ do they have? They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade.”

“Hmm,” was all Solas said, clearly skeptical but not wanting to engage. Or perhaps he was simply thinking of how he would dismantle Dorian’s opinions.

“There’s no harm putting them to constructive use, and most mages back home treat them well,” he continued blithely. I felt myself bristling. I wonder if he would say the same of elven slaves?

Solas said exactly what I was thinking, but in a much more intelligent way. “And any that show any magical talent are freed, are they not?”

“What?” Dorian, again, looked befuddled. He clearly did not see the way we did. “Spirits don’t have magical talent.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were talking about your slaves.”

We rode in silence a while longer, but Dorian could _not_ let sleeping dogs lie.

“Solas,” he ventured, “have I offended you?”

“If you have, why would it concern you?” Solas’ tone was…polite, if distant.

“Because we’re working together for a common cause, and because I respect your abilities.”

“My abilities as a mage,” Solas stated.

“Well, I…realize there’s more to you than that.”

At least Dorian was trying to get along—he finally understood, at least so I thought, that perhaps Solas might have a point. Solas, however, did not seem as certain of that as I.

“The differences between us are not technicalities to be discarded, Dorian.”

“I…” the Tevinter mage looked lost, but only for a moment, before his own mask slid back into place. All of my companions, except for maybe Cass and Sera, were so careful about what face they showed. “I was hoping we might find common ground, that’s all.”

When it was clear that Solas would leave that statement unanswered, I stepped in. Sometimes one needed compassion to soften censure.

“Dorian,” I said, managing to get my horse to ride closer to his own, much to my pride, “you must understand where Solas is coming from. There are things to celebrate about Tevinter—the freedom of mages is nothing to be sneered at—and yet, there are things that would, to _us_ , negate any possible benefit. That freedom is not extended to all. You see us as mages, yes? But we are more than that. If we had no magic, what would we be to you? Would you still respect us? What if we were caught by slavers—would you fight to set us free? Would you shake your head, say how fate can be cruel, and turn away?” I looked at him, trying to keep my face as compassionate as I could, so I did not alienate him. Solas, I saw from the corner of my eye, was watching me keenly. I did not look at him—it would break my concentration.

“Of course I would not let slavers simply take you—even if you did not have magic,” he added quickly. “You must think me barbarous to say such a thing.”

I shook my head. “You’re missing my point; so you would fight for us—but what makes us different? Why would you save us, but not every other child, man, woman and all in between, from slavery? Because you’ve gotten to know us, just a touch, and can see our worth as people?”

“It isn’t as simple as that,” Dorian said. “If we suddenly made all slaves free, what would become of them? Cast out into the cold? At least as slaves, they have homes and are fed, given productivity. If they were freed, most would flounder on the streets.”

“Why? Because you think that no one would employ a servant? Do you think so little of your country and economy that to pay people a wage would destroy all that you are as a nation?”

“You can say what you will of slavery as a concept, but I fail to see how it is worse to be a well-treated slave than cast aside in an alienage where disease and poverty are one’s bedmates.”

“I am not stating you should create alienages,” I said, willing him to see the point. “Ferelden is not a model empire by any stretch of the imagination. There is much I would— _will_ change here, too. If I am able. But tell me truly Dorian—if given the choice, would you sell yourself into slavery or take your chances on the streets, if those were your only two options?”

He sat a little more upright in his saddle. “If the household was a kind one, why wouldn’t I be content to be a productive part of society?”

“So _that’s_ what’s important to you?” I asked. “Playing your part for society? Giving up all that you could do, everything you desire—the person who you _are_ —to play a role for society that will, inevitably, drive you to sorrow? That will chain you, and force you to do and be what you never asked for? Be honest, Dorian. Look me in the eye and tell me you would sacrifice who you are for what _society_ thinks is best.”

He didn’t. He stared straight ahead. He swallowed, and I could tell he was thinking now of something much more personal. “I…I have no answers for you, Survivor.”

“Fen,” I said, again trying to reach out to him. “That’s what I go by since I cannot remember my name.”

The mage glanced at me obliquely, and smiled, just barely. “Fen, then. Better than ‘Herald.’”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I could not agree with you more on that point.”

“Well, that’s something at least.”

I grinned at him openly. “Things have to start somewhere, after all.”

Dorian inclined his head, his moustache twitching as he smiled.

We continued southwards, mostly silent. I missed Varric’s company and stories, but eventually I was able to coax a bit of conversation out of Cassandra. Solas was quiet, pensive, though I did notice (how could I not) that he kept glancing at me when he thought that I was occupied with Cass. How little he was conscious of how very, very aware of him I was.

We reached the Fallow Mire not the next morning, but the one after. Despite the fact that it was day, the area was dark, heavy and grey with cloud. Everything was moist, covered in moss and decay. The air was somewhat putrid, the stink of rotten flesh mixed with fresh manure. Dorian seemed to feel this most keenly, or at least seemed to by the fact that he commented on the smell at least three times when we finally reached the camp Harding had set up. She was glad to see us, her eyes shining despite the haze in the air.

“Thank you for coming. Maybe you can solve this mess. Our missing patrols are being held hostage by Avvar. Barbarians from the mountains.”

I wrinkled my nose, looking around. “Then why are they in a _bog_?”

“That’s the thing. Their leader…” Harding trailed off, then shook her head. “He wants them to fight you. Because you’re the Herald of Andraste.”

I groaned aloud, running a hand over my face. “ _Fenedhis_ , will no one listen to _me_ on that regard?”

Harding folded her arms behind her back, looking a touch uncomfortable. “Well, perhaps you could mention that to them. The Avvar think that there are gods in nature. As in, the sky has a god, and the forest. The Avvar seem to think you’re claiming to be sent by one, and they’ll challenge the will of your god with their own.”

“The only god I have any faith in is certainly _not_ Andraste or the Maker,” I said, feeling another tension headache begin.

“ _I_ think their leader’s just a boastful little prick who wants to brag that he killed you.”

I snorted, smiling at her. Her honesty and humor was refreshing. “Should I give him an autograph before he tries to behead me?”

“They think reading’s for the weak. You know, scholars, lowlanders, Orlesian peasants.” At my smile, she continued. “Getting to our troops won’t be easy. You’ll have to fight your way through undead—wait…you’re not squeamish about undead, are you?”

I snorted. “They’re certainly on my list of favorite things, no.”

“You’ll want to stay out of the water, then.” She half-turned, getting ready to head back to Haven, most likely. “The Avvar are holed up in the castle on the other side of the Fallow Mire. Maker willing, the Inquisition’s people are still alive.”

“They are,” I reassured her. “I just know. As ‘barbaric’ as we might think the Avvar, they are not without their own code of honor.” I smiled at her. “Travel swiftly, with the sun at your back, Harding.”

She nodded her farewell, and then my companions and I were off. Fen walked beside me, silent, leaving a nearly-invisible trail of prints behind her. Mushrooms grew wild and tall, feeding off the rot that fertilized the soil. We found a path scattered with nonsensical runes, closed rifts, and otherwise tried to avoid the undead when we could, and killed them when we couldn’t. Was killed the right word? Laid them to rest? Obliterated? It didn’t matter, I supposed. We met an Avvar, Sky Watcher, and impressed him after we closed one of the rifts. We did not stay to chat. I was unable to think of anything but our soldiers, wounded and thinking I had abandoned them. It made me _sick_. The anxiety and worry built inside me until it was churning, burning like a fire, making the mark on my hand glow green-hot and bright.

When we found the castle, it was swarmed with undead, and we had to sprint through, Dorian complaining about the mud splatter on his robes. I could tell it was playful—or at least, in jest. He was trying to distract himself from the something. Or maybe it was for my benefit? I supposed I was rather grim and determined—but my mind was on those women and men being held by the Avvar. My hand throbbed and pulsed, energy needing some sort of…out. When we came across a group of Avvar scouts inside the gate of the castle, I was so worked up that I simply released a blast of energy from the mark. It caught them the way my explosion with the templars and renegade mages had—drawing them up in vibrant energy, holding them in a state of stasis. Cassandra and Solas relaxed, no longer gearing for battle, but Dorian froze, lined eyes wide.

“What…? What _is that_? I did not realize the mark could do such a thing. The energy modulation surrounding them feels more like sympathetic magic mixed with ambient energy. One good, strong mana cleanse could free them—if one had enough power.”

“Let’s go,” I simply said. “We can deal with them once our people are free.”

When we came across one more group of scouts, I had enough energy still burning through my veins to freeze them in Fade energy as well. Freeze was the wrong word—suspend. When Dorian looked at me, it was not the same. Censure? Fear? Concern? I could ask later. We found the princeling, bloated and fat with his own muscle and strength, confident he would defeat us. I had little time and less patience for such grand standing. Fen, who had been calm at my side, who had not rushed early when I had frozen those Avvar scouts—who had stayed behind me when we fought the undead, listening to my fear of infection from accidental ingestion of that rotten flesh—now lunged forward. When one of the Avvar marksmen aimed at her, I froze her on spot. She moved like a flash of lightning—small, but fierce. At the last second she feinted, changing targets to the other marksman who was trying to launch an arrow at the Seeker as she charged their leader.

I struck him with a bolt of lightning, then another, and another and another. He screamed, and for a moment I swore I could see his skeleton through his flesh as the lightning ripped through him. Dorian or Solas shot a ball of fire at him, lighting him ablaze. He was paralyzed, burning, panicked, and then dead as Cass’s blade severed his head from his body. I looked at the remaining Avvar, giving them a flat stare.

“Run,” I said. “Run and tell your Chief that I am no Herald. Tell him his son died foolishly, but that I have no grievance with him _or_ his people.”

They refused to listen. Perhaps they would be killed for cowardice if they fled this battle—whatever it was, I was forced to murder them as well. Fen fell into battle beside me, her muzzle wet with blood.

When it was finally done, I immediately looked for our soldiers. They were disbelieving in turns, grateful and confident in others. We gave them potions and they left before us—Sky Watcher was waiting for us outside the keep. He was impressed, and agreed to act as an agent for us. We would heal the sky together.

It was almost midnight when we returned to camp, having caught up with the wounded soldiers. The Avvar I had captured in Fade energy, I had released. I informed them that their prince was dead, and that they should return to their Chief. Perhaps because they had not been at the battle, they left peaceably enough. I imagined they would take word to their true leader, and it would be up to him to seek justice. We would see soon enough.

It was wet _inside_ the tents, which was almost impressive in how depressing it was. It was warmer here than up north in the mountains. The mugginess coupled with Fen’s heat as she slept on top of my legs made falling into dream difficult, but not impossible. I had saved at least six people today—not to mention our soldiers whom we had rescued. Who knew what joys those six lives would hold? Who knew what the recruits we had rescued would do now, to help the Inquisition? To help Thedas? How they would change the world—each in his or her own way?

It gave me comfort.

The next morning, we set out for Redcliffe. Dorian was most distressed that his hair was not curling properly at the temples, and again, I did not take him seriously. He was not a frivolous man, Dorian, despite the care he took with his appearance and his flippant remarks. It was a show, a performance of bravado and confidence. If anything, I thought Dorian was lonely. He hadn’t mentioned a family, and it seemed like Alexius and Felix were the only ones really in his life. I think that was why he tried to reach out to Solas again as we rode slightly north-east.

“Solas,” he ventured, clearly cautious but determined to not give up, “that little flare I saw you do yesterday with your staff…You’re redirecting ambient energy to your personal aura?”

Solas nodded once, somewhat distracted. He had been unusually quiet, even for himself. I wondered what was going on in that perfectly shaped head of his. “Yes. The effect clears magical energy and creates a minor randomized barrier to impair incoming magic or projectiles.”

“Fascinating,” Dorian said, meaning it. “It’s a Tevinter technique. I’ve never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.”

“The technique,” Solas said, a slight stiffness to his tone, “is not Tevinter. It is elven.”

“Oh!” Dorian exclaimed, eyebrows up. “That means we…never mind, then.”

“But do go on about the wonders of Tevinter magic.”

I saw the human mage’s moustache twitch. I think he was past the point of trying to create friendship with Solas, at least for the moment. Instead, he gazed at the elven apostate down his nose, casually taking mark of his attire.

“Solas,” Dorian said, conversationally. “What’s this look of yours about?”

“I’m sorry?” Solas responded, clearly startled by the comment. Perhaps he had been expecting another attempt to open a discussion on magic—clearly not fashion.

“No that _outfit_ is sorry. What are you supposed to be, some kind of woodsman?” He snorted. “Is it a Dalish thing?”

“He dislikes the Dalish actually,” I supplied helpfully. Solas shot me a look. I smiled at him. “Well, you do.”

“Then it must be some kind of statement.”

“No,” Solas said finally.

“Well, it says ‘apostate hobo’ to me.”

“I think it’s more ‘rugged’ and ‘well-loved,’” I said, admiring Solas rather openly. He did not turn to look at me, but I thought the tips of his ears pinkened. Fen let out a small woof of agreement as she trotted beside us.

“It is practical,” Cassandra put in, startling me. I had _not_ expected her to jump in. “Your belt is particularly useful. I would not mind having one made in replication, for myself.”

I grinned widely. “I would be happy to get its measurements—if you’d not mind, Solas.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, successfully ceasing the discussion about his person and personal effects.

The day passed, bled into night, and once more rose to morning. We made it to Redcliffe that day, rested at camp. As we were preparing for bed that night, I overheard Dorian once again harassing Solas.

“Let me get this straight, Solas. You’re an apostate—neither Dalish nor city elf—who lived alone in the woods, studying spirits.” It wasn’t really a question, and Solas did not treat it as such.

“Is that a problem for you?”

“No, no. You’re a special and unique snowflake. Live the dream.”

“Dorian,” I said, my head poking out of my tent. He paused, about to duck into his own tent. “Leave Solas be, or I’ll make you sleep with Fen and let me tell you—sure can fart up a _storm_ when she’s dreaming. I mean, you thought the Fallow Mire was bad, but honestly—”

His face was exactly what I had hoped it would be; his lip was curled and he was staring at me, quite clearly a mixture of horrified and mortified. I blew him a kiss, and disappeared back into my tent. Fen dropped her head onto my chest when I lay back, and I laughed, ruffling her fur.

We set out mid-morning the next day. The castle, once we arrived, was not entirely what I had expected—I remembered, or thought I did, warm colors, stone with a golden cast from the many fires. But this place was cold, draped with blue carpet and dark, soot-stained wall hangings of mabari and portraits of the Arl’s family that had seen better days. Cassandra and Solas flanked me, Dorian not present but sneaking in with the spies through the family’s secret entrance.

We were greeted by two Tevinter guards with their pointed headgear and horned masks. Their clothes looked so far from comfort or practicality that it was almost confusing—why? And then a man with delicately coiffed blond hair walked down the steps, clearly our herald.

“Announce us,” I said.

He approached, shaking his head. “The magister’s invitation was for you alone, and no one else. You lot wait here.”

I tried not to radiate smugness as I said, “Oh, but they’re my attachés. They have to accompany me.”

He stared at them, probably noting Solas’ less than official-looking garb, and Cassandra’s full armor. I smiled sweetly. He looked to me, his expression blank. “And the wolf?”

“You know how Fereldens are—so found of our hounds.”

The man stared at me so long that I thought he might, just maybe, tell us to fuck right off. He didn’t. He nodded once, and I led the way up the steps to where Alexius lounged in the Arl’s seat. Felix was standing beside him, beneath the shadow of a large mabari statue. Fiona stood below the steps where the magister was seated, looking despondent. We walked up, and I stared Alexius in the eye, smile tightly in place.

“My lord magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived,” the blond herald announced. He looked at us sideways as he spoke, clearly not impressed. Alexius smiled in a way that he must have _thought_ looked welcoming, and stood.

“My friend!” he exclaimed, his face lined with age and care, his smile just as tight as my own. “It’s so good to see you again.” He looked at Cassandra and Solas. “And your associates, of course.” He gestured, opening his arms as if to embrace us from a distance. “I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties.”

Fiona approached, her gait determined. “Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?”

“Fiona,” Alexius began, his tone warm, a father speaking to his daughter, “you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.”

I smiled, rocking back on my heels. “If Grand Enchanter Fiona wishes to join our discussion, I would welcome her. Be my guest, Fiona.”

“Thank you,” she said, seeming genuinely and pleasantly surprised. Alexius seemed less so, which suited me just fine. He turned his back to us.

The magister sat once more, his gaze steady, smile gone. “The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

“We can get to that,” I said, stepping forward, “perhaps after we’ve talked about _time magic_.”

His smile returned, tight again. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you mean.”

“She knows everything, Father,” Felix said, exasperated and so very sad.

“Felix,” his father replied, his brow furrowed. “What have you done?”

“Your son is worried about you—that you might be involved in something beyond your ken.”

“So speaks the _thief_ of ignorance. Do you think you can turn my son against me?” He crossed one foot over his knee, reclining. “You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark—a gift you don’t even understand—and think you’re in control?” He paused, staring me down. “You’re nothing but a mistake.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “My mother would hopefully argue that point,” I said, grinning at him fiercely. Fen at my side growled low, her hackles rising, mirroring my mood. “But if you know oh-so much, why don’t you enlighten me—what is this mark for?”

Alexius stood abruptly at the challenge in my voice. “It belongs to your betters. You wouldn’t even begin to understand its purpose.”

“Father!” Felix interrupted. “Listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be,” Dorian said, casually strolling up from behind a pillar.

Alexius was _not_ happy to see him. “Dorian.” He gesticulated at the moustached man. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down.” His gaze turned fierce. “The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

“The Elder One—that’s whom you serve? The one who killed the Divine? He’s a mage?”

“Soon,” Alexius said, his gaze boring into my own, “he will become a god.”

I laughed at that, a startled, disbelieving sound—I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried.

“He will make the world bow to mages once more!” the magister declared, his rage fueled by my disrespect. “We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

Fiona scowled. “You can’t involve my people in this!”

Dorian approached his former mentor, trying to reason with him. “Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen! Why would you support this?”

Felix also tried to make his father see sense. “Stop it, Father. Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.”

“No!” he expostulated, spinning. “It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you!”

“Save me?” Felix looked at his father as if he were seeing him for the first time.

“There _is_ a way,” Alexius continued, undeterred. “The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple…”

Felix shook his head. “I’m going to die,” he said starkly. “You need to accept that.”

“Seize them, Venatori!” Alexius yelled, ignoring his son. “The Elder One demands this woman’s life!”

When his order was not immediately obeyed, he looked up, cautious, clearly concerned. The Venatori, whom I had taken to be guards, fell, our agents stepping up behind them, daggers and swords drawn. Alexius’ eyebrows rose, clearly impressed and surprised—then terrified.

“Your men are dead. Give up, Alexius. We can end this violence.”

“You…are a mistake! You never should have existed!”

“Rude,” I returned, trying not to think of the men bleeding behind me. I almost missed the magister pull a cubed amulet from his robes. It glowed green, and rose from the center of his palm. Dorian beside me was reacting. I had just enough sense to grab Fen when she snarled and tried to lunge forward. And then there was a huge noise and green light was exploding around us. It wrapped around me and I felt pressure—incredible pressure that made my ears need to pop, my jaw ache and my skin feel like it was being pulled off. I was blown backwards, but my arms stayed tight around Fen. I landed in maybe a foot and a half of water, my wolf on my chest. The air was sucked out of me, and I gasped to recover.

I had no time to think—we were in a cell, Fen and Dorian and I, and there were guards rushing towards us. Fen snarled, thrashing around, confused, disoriented. I pushed her off of me, and stepped in front of her as the guards sloshed into the cell.

“Blood of the Elder One!” one of the guards cried. His helmet had a giant point on it—must be Tevinter.

“Where’d they come from?” the other asked.

I realized where the source of heat was coming from—huge outcroppings of red lyrium were growing out of the ground—from the walls and ceiling. It cast a sickly red tint to everything.

“Displacement?” Dorian said, standing. “Interesting!”

“Not _now_ ,” I said, barely able to keep Fen behind me.

“Right!” he agreed, and we turned together to take down the guards. I shied away from using lighting—just in case. The first thing I really noticed was how much more _energy_ was coursing through the mark. It was practically throbbing with it. It was more uncomfortable than being sucked through that time warp. I could think about that later though—the guards were attacking us. Fen was able to keep them a distance from either Dorian or myself, while we killed them with magic. One was shattered, and the other burned to death.

Dorian, once the two had been dealt with, looked around us. “It _is_ displacement. It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us…to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

“It moved us forward in time,” I said, kneeling beside Fen, knowing she was unhurt but needing to see nonetheless. “And we have to find our friends.”

“Let’s see. If we’re still in the castle, it isn’t…Of course! You’re right. It’s not simply where—but when!” He laughed, standing. “Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time.”

“Yes,” I said, as patiently as I could, standing as well, one hand still on Fen. “We undo this and go back. I need to see—Solas, I know he’s here. We have to _undo_ this.”

“I’m not certain it’ll be a matter of snapping our fingers, but yes. I quite agree.” He turned, facing the exit of the cell. “Let’s look around, see where exactly the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back…if we can.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You have a plan to get us back, I hope.”

“I have some thoughts on that. They’re lovely thoughts, like little jewels.”

Despite everything—or maybe because of it—I found myself laughing. I think that startled Dorian, or at least he looked surprised before his expression melted into a half-smile, a little bemused. I shook my head, grinning as I ruffled Fen’s fur, doing my best to calm her—she was not reacting well, I thought to the lyrium surrounding us.

“Come on, Dorian. Let’s find our way out of this mess.”

We exited the cell together, and I thought it was odd—there was a desk, a bureau and several boxes and pots in there. What an odd place to keep people locked up—but cell it was, judging by the heavy iron bars.

Wading through the water, we came to a set of stairs and quickly ascended, doing our best not to touch the glowing lyrium. We found our way to the upper cells, and I was suddenly struck so hard by shock that I felt my lungs tighten. There in one of the cells was the same elven mage who had begged us to save them from the magister. His eyes were glowing and his skin was sickly. He was rocking back and forth, chanting a prayer over and over. I swallowed hard and kept going. Fen, by my side, whined softly, her ears back and tail tucked as we walked quickly. We would save him. We had to.

In the cell across from him was a pile taller than my waist of skeletons picked clean. I swallowed and looked away, doing my best to keep my mind clear. _Focus on breathing, focus_ , I told myself. Another flight of stairs, then a metal grill that was acting almost like a draw bridge between three doors. There were two guards, and Dorian and I killed them quickly—not giving Fen even a chance to sink her teeth into them. One of them had a ring of keys, which we took. Unspeaking, we went through the door on the right. A giant _beam_ of red lyrium nearly blocked the way—we were just barely able to climb beneath it. We pushed on, finding more cells. Most of the castle had been converted into a prison, it seemed.

We came to a wooden door, and I could hear what I thought was Cassandra’s voice. I nearly slammed it open.

“The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next,” she was saying. “For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.” She was sitting in a cell, her back to us. I could see the red glow coming off her as she turned, hearing our approach. Her eyes grew wide. “You’ve returned to us. Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance? Maker forgive me.” Her face fell, red energy arcing off of her like lightning. “I failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life.”

“I’m not back from the dead, Cassandra. I just got…well, this is hard to explain.” I swallowed, my chest constricting. We unlocked the cell, and Fen immediately went to Cass, nuzzling her gently. She allowed Cassandra to use her as a lever to stand. The Seeker looked me in the eye once she was up.

“I was there. The magister obliterated you with a gesture.”

“Alexius sent us forward in time,” Dorian corrected. “If we find him, we may be able to return to the present.”

“Go back in time? Then…” her eyes lit, and it had nothing to do with the lyrium poisoning. “Can you make it so that none of this ever took place?”

“I said ‘ _may_ ,’” Dorian reiterated.

“I will do all I can to make it so,” I said. Fen returned to my side, looking further down the hall, towards the cells as the end.

“Alexius’s master…after you died, we could not stop the Elder One from rising. Empress Celene was murdered. The army that swept in afterwards—it was a horde of demons. Nothing stopped them. Nothing.”

I shook my head. “I should have…I should have been there.”

“You’re here now,” Cassandra said.

Fen woofed softly, and began padding down the hall. I followed her, my heart beginning to beat faster. I knew…I knew whom we would find. My walk turned into a sprint. I nearly slammed into the bars, my eyes wide as I looked at Solas, his body consumed by that sparkling red energy. He was further gone than Cass. When he heard me slam into his cell, he turned, slowly, clearly not expecting much.

The surprise on his face, when he saw me gripping the bars, was palpable. “You’re alive,” he whispered, stepping close. His hand closed over one of mine, and I could feel his skin was so very hot. “We saw you die!”

I threaded my fingers through his, doing my best not to tear up. Fen scratched at the door, and Dorian used the keys we had lifted off one of the guards we killed to unlock the cell.

“The spell Alexius cast displaced us in time,” Dorian corrected. “We just got here, so to speak.”

Solas released my fingers, much to my heartache, and stepped out of the cell. “Can you reverse the process?” He stopped to run his fingers through Fen’s fur as she butted into his knees with her head. “You could return and obviate the events of the last year. It may not be too late…”

“Solas,” I said. “You look…bad. Is there anything I can do to help ease the pain?”

“I am dying,” he said without rancor or bitterness, “but no matter. If you can undo this, they can all be saved!” He stared at me, level-headed. “This world is an abomination. It must never come to pass.”

I swallowed. Hard. He still never thought of himself—always others. Always…

Before I could really stop myself, I had flung myself at him and wrapped my arms around him tightly.

“Be careful,” he hissed, not angrily, just concerned. “Exposure to the lyrium is what led to the infection.”

I pressed my face into his shoulder. Heat was bleeding through his clothes so intensely I was amazed he was able to stand and be conscious. It was clear he had not bathed in quite some time, but nothing mattered other than the fact that he was here and _I was going to save him and everyone_.

“ _Ar lath ma_ ,” I whispered against him. The tension left his body and I felt his arms around me. He gave me the briefest of embraces, then pulled away. He cupped one of my cheeks, searched my eyes, his thumb tracing along the length of my jaw.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, somewhat awed. And then he was pulling back completely and I felt the loss of his touch like a blow to my gut. I did not have time to mourn, however. Solas averted his gaze to Cassandra as she spoke.

“Alexius locked himself in the throne room. That’s where we’ll find him.”

“It’s time we paid Alexius a visit,” I said, anger hardening my heart and making my veins run cold. Fen was beside me, and Solas and Dorian and Cassandra behind me. I would fix this. I would fix this, and when I got back, I was going to give Solas the biggest hug and not let go for _years_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know: they are not at Skyhold and there was no lovely smut. But trust me; it's coming. But good GOD I had to be done with this chapter. It's 76 pages and I just...felt like I needed to send it out into the world before it got to be 100? Anywho, I hope it wasn't boring! Lots of exposition and getting of characters. But that's out of the way now and we can get back to action >:}  
> Also, I didn't proof the last twenty or so pages pleaseforgivemeIamsotired
> 
> ma glandival. Vir enasalin: my help, my wish, path to victory. There is a really cool deconstruction of this on the DA Wikia


	10. Going Back

The steady drip of water was omnipresent—each room we went into seemed to have some sort of leak. The further up we went, the drier it got, but there was still the smell of mildew and rot in the air. We found Fiona in a jail cell, and her state nearly broke my heart. She was stuck to the wall, caught in the middle of a huge growth of red lyrium. I could not tell if it was growing out of her, or around her. I stood, staring, my jaw tight as I tried not to tear up. We did not have time for crying. She turned, slowly, and her eyes widened just a fraction.

“You’re…alive? How? I saw you…disappear…into the rift.” Speaking for her was clearly difficult.

“Time magic. Alexius sent us forward in time—Fiona…is that lyrium growing _out_ of you?”

“The longer you’re near it,” she said, pausing, “eventually…you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more.”

My hands trembled. Dorian noticed my sharp intake of breath, and took over the conversation as I tried to keep the tears welling in my eyes from spilling down my cheeks. “Can you tell us the date? It’s very important.”

“Harvestmere…9:42 Dragon.”

“Nine forty- _two_? Then we’ve missed an entire year.”

“This is wrong,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“You must…beware.” It must have been exhausting for her to continue like she was. “Alexius…serves the Elder One. More powerful…than the Maker…No one…challenges him and lives.”

Fen brushed against my legs, a soothing touch in that darkness that was blanketing my mind. “I promise, I will do everything in my power to set things right.” I grabbed the bars, looking her dead in the eye. “I will make sure this never happens to you.”

“Our only hope is to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here,” Dorian said. Solas came up beside me, placing a hand over mine. He loosened my fingers, pulling me away. Dorian continued speaking. “If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left. Maybe.”

“Good,” Fiona said, leaning heavily against the wall.

Dorian groaned. “I said _maybe_. It might also turn us into paste.”

She looked at us, her forehead against the hot stone. “You _must_ try.” She was silent a moment as she regarded us, gathering her strength. “Your spymaster, Leliana…she is here. Find her. Quickly…before the Elder One…learns you’re here.”

I wrapped my fingers through Solas’, not letting his hand go. His skin was so hot. I used a small amount of magic, from the copious amounts funneling through the mark as it throbbed on my hand, to create a cool bubble around us. Solas swallowed, looking at me with surprise.

“Do not waste your energy, _falon_ ; I will be fine.”

“I have too much—it almost hurts. It feels as if the Breach were…”

“Very close?” Cassandra asked. I offered her my hand as we began to walk, extending the coolness to her. She took it, breathing a sigh of relief as the cold air swept over her. “By the Maker, that feels…”

“Heavenly,” Solas supplied. She nodded.

Dorian walked ahead, Fen trailing just behind him. He paused before exiting through the door we had come in, glancing at the two. “If red lyrium is an infection…Maker, why is it coming out of the walls?”

“Do you really want to know?” I asked, releasing my friends. We needed to move more quickly. It was easy, however, to keep my magic going, and to keep the cold air circulating around them. I slowed as we approached the metal gate that was acting as a bridge. Something loud clanged, as if another part of the bridge had been lowered, and I heard angry shouting.

“Find them! They must be here somewhere!”

I motioned to my group to stay behind me. Fen was by my side, her hackles up, her lip curled in a silent snarl. She was too young for this kind of fighting—but she had proven herself not only capable, but an asset. It was almost as if when she moved, I could feel the energy flow between us. As we fought, side by side, I could feel her so much more strongly. But there would be time later to think of such things, if we were successful.

We were able to defeat the Venatori after a brief, but arduous, battle. Their mage nearly lit Fen on fire at one point, and only Solas and I casting a barrier simultaneously over her protected her from the glyph she had been about to step on. Crying out with rage and fear and anguish, I had frozen the assailant and Cassandra had shattered him with a cleave to his chest. The archers had followed shortly after. We stood over their bodies, panting and recovering, when Cass said, “Andraste have mercy on their souls.”

“For we shall not,” I completed for her. Anyone who could do this to other living creatures—anyone who could torture and murder and infect with lyrium until a person wasn’t a person any longer, just a corpse to be harvested—I thought, perhaps, this might have been just. I caught myself thinking that and my heart skipped a beat, my eyes growing wide. No—I could _not_ afford to see any life as expendable, or justifiable in its murder.

“We may not have much time,” Solas said, dragging me out of my thoughts. I nodded as he continued, “Let’s find the magister quickly.”

We crossed the bridge that had been lowered, and entered what might have been a mess hall once. On one of the tables in the center of the decrepit chamber was a hymn—some sort of praise of the Elder One. I picked it up and burned it with a flash of magic.

We moved on.

We continued up some stone steps, and I could hear voices distantly.

“There is no Maker,” a man was saying, his tone harsh. “The Elder One has taken all that is His and will soon rule from His city.”

“That still doesn’t make him a god,” a woman responded, brave but her voice was weak.

There was a loud slap, a gasp, and then silence. Fen snarled beside me, responding to the rage that welled up my throat. I flung the door open and attacked the men standing over a Chantry Sister or Mother’s body. These Venatori were clearly torturers, given the chamber we had just entered was, in fact, a torture chamber. The rage was blinding—that poor woman had not asked to be put in this situation. Creators knew what she had undergone at the hands of these individuals. It would be so easy— _so easy_ —to lose myself in pure, unabashed hatred. To give myself over to that darkness and let it carry me through battle. They deserved to die. I could mete out justice. I could decide. I _had_ decided. I—

And then Fen bit my hand. Hard. Her teeth sank into my skin, just enough to draw blood. She released me, her blue eyes boring into mine, and then she was gone, lunging at the knees of one of our attackers. I did not take the time to think about what had just happened—I spun, shocked one of the Venatori as he rounded on Dorian, allowing the mage to lay a glyph and Fade Step out of the way. Solas and Cassandra finished the last of our attackers. Then I dropped to my knees and threw my arms around Fen. Sobbing violently and _quickly_ , I hugged her, my blood matting her fur. It was over nearly as soon as it had begun. She nuzzled my cheek and I nodded, standing on shaky legs. Solas came up, looking perplexed.

“We do not have time for me to inquire after what has happened,” he said, his blue eyes crimson with lyrium sickness. “But are you well enough to push forward?”

“Yes,” I said, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. I downed a potion to heal my hand, and then we were on our way. Cassandra lingered just a moment beside the fallen Sister.

“May she find peace at the Maker’s side.”

“She won’t need to,” I said, my voice harsh from the sobbing and the anger still pushing against my ribs. “She _won’t need to_.”

We continued moving up. We passed through the rest of the torture chambers, and then through what seemed like guard barracks. As we ran down the stone halls, again we could hear a voice from behind a door, just ahead.

“Tell me how the Survivor knew of the sacrifice at the temple.”

“ _Never_ ,” came Leliana’s reply. A noise, then a shrill scream of pain. Leliana’s. My jog turned into a sprint.

“There’s no use to this defiance, little bird. There’s no one left for you to protect.”

“You’re wasting your breath,” she replied, her voice strong, despite the fact that she had just screamed. The rattle of chains. Another scream echoed down the long hallway. My lungs were burning by the time I reached the door.

“Talk! The Elder One demands answers!”

Leliana’s responding laughter was livid. “He’ll get used to disappointment.”

I body-slammed the door and nearly broke the handle as I wrenched it open—nothing here was locked; they were so satisfied that no one would be wandering around without purpose. This was the Elder One’s stronghold, and he was so powerful that there was no threat of invasion or rebellion.

Leliana was hanging by her arms, and her face was almost unrecognizable. She had aged seventy years. Her once bright eyes were black hollows in the skull that used to be such a pretty face. She _was_ pain. Her body was suffering. What kind of horrors had she undergone? Something flashed through my mind—experiments involving the Blight; she had proven resistant, and so many experiments had been done, ‘samples’ taken. My gut churned as the Tevinter interrogator spun away from her, obviously surprised.

And then Leliana’s legs were clamping around his neck, tight—too tight to breathe. He gasped, the sound a strangled gurgle. There was a snap as she jerked her thighs to the left, and the man fell to the ground—a lifeless doll in Tevinter dress up.

“You’re alive!” she exclaimed, staring at me. It sounded almost like an accusation. I grabbed the keys from the corpse, and released her, helping her down.

“That…was impressive,” I said, unable to think of anything of worth to say. I was sorry? I would change things so she never had to suffer? It would be inadequate. There was no removing the pain this woman had felt.

“Anger is stronger than any pain,” she said, her brows furrowed. I nodded. “Do you have weapons?” I nodded, and she continued. “Good. The magister’s probably in his chambers.”

Dorian watched the woman as she unlocked a trunk in the corner, and dug through it to claim weapons of her own. “You…aren’t curious how we got here?”

“No,” she said, not looking up. She stood when she had her bow and arrows, and turned.

“Alexius sent us into the future,” Dorian said anyway. “This, his victory, his Elder One—it was never meant to be.”

I winced at his wording. “Whether or not it was ‘meant to be,’” I said, looking at Leliana steadily, “we have to find Alexius and try to reverse this spell. If…if I can negate this _suffering_ —” I stopped, choking on my own words. Fen butted her head into my hand, and I looked down at her gratefully.

“If we can get back to _our_ present time,” Dorian continued for me, “we can prevent this future from ever happening.”

“And mages always wonder why people fear them…” Leliana said, and I had never seen anyone look so angry. “No one should have this power.”

“It’s dangerous and unpredictable,” Dorian said. “Before the Breach, nothing we did—”

“Enough!” Leliana said, her voice barely above a soft murmur. “This,” she hissed, “is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.”

One tear leaked out of the corner of my eye. She was right. I inhaled sharply and strode from the room with renewed purpose. All the more important to negate these events. Fen was right beside me, and I could feel Solas behind me. I don’t know how I knew it was him; I just _did_. Cassandra, Leliana and Dorian were further back.

“What happened while we were away?” the Tevinter mage asked.

“Stop talking,” Leliana demanded.

“I’m just asking for information,” he defended.

“No. You’re talking to fill silence. Nothing happened that you want to hear.”

We continued in silence after that. We came across yet another metal grill acting as a bridge. Bodies, decayed and skeletal, hung from the support chains. We crossed it, and the mark on my hand began to glow and pulse even more. I grit my teeth against the pain; it was nothing compared to what Leliana had suffered.

Dorian really didn’t like the silence. “We need to find Alexius,” he said, as if that was in doubt. “I’m sure he’ll be in the nicer part of the castle. If there is one.”

I ignored him and cast a protective barrier over Fen and myself. I charged into the next room, a grand hall of some kind—or had once been grand—and prepared to close a rift. It glowed bright and hot directly next to a large statue of some figure obscured by a growth of red lyrium. The demons waiting for us—shades and wisps—were dealt with quickly and easily. We suffered no injuries, and I closed the rift. The power in my hand exploded out of me, knocking me off my feet. For a moment, I could see nothing but white light. Sound returned to me in waves, and suddenly I knew I was lying on my back, blinking at the shapes above me.

“—you well?” Dorian, I thought.

“Let me see her eyes; if her pupils are dilated, we will need more than a simple potion.” Solas. His words seemed calm enough, and yet his tone was harsh.

Dorian, who had been hovering hazily above me, was pushed aside, replaced by Solas. I blinked again, trying to reach out to touch him. His hand caught mine, squeezing. Then he was forcing my eye lids open wide, and examining my pupils intently. After a moment of making me track one of his fingers, he sat back, relieved.

“Give her a potion then, and let’s go.” Leliana.

I sat up and Fen was there, pushing her head beneath my arm, offering to help. I stood, accepted the potion somewhat remorsefully—that would leave us with six, as far as I knew. I didn’t know if Dorian had any, and I doubted that Solas, Cass or Leliana would.

After a moment to get my bearings, we pressed forward. There was a crank on the wall, and it opened a gate that led to a dock. I could hear the rushing water. As we mounted the stairs, I looked at Solas.

“What happened? There was an energy explosion, but nothing I shouldn’t have been able to handle.”

“You shattered the lyrium growing behind the rift, and a piece of it hit you across your temple. I was able to heal the superficial injury to your skin and muscle, but without more energy, or a healthy body myself, deeper healing would have proven impossible.”

I nodded, and Fen once again pushed her head against my hand, reassuring both of us that I was fine, and that I was here and we needed to focus. At the top of the stairs, we could hear two voices bickering back and forth.

“The magister needs more power for his rituals,” a female said.

“No! Don’t hurt me, Linnea! You know me!”

My quick walk turned into a jog to get to the scene—but too late. By the time we descended the steps down to the docks themselves, the mages were gone, replaced by two shade demons. We killed them easily, having snuck up behind the two. Once the battle was over, Dorian scowled.

“This is madness. Alexius can’t have wanted this.”

No one said anything. Something caught my eye, down near the water. I darted over, my heart leaping. Potions! “Thank the Dread Wolf,” I said under my breath, kneeling down and restocking my supply. I turned to the others and called for them to grab some for themselves.

Once replenished, we continued on. We went through more stone hallways lined with red lyrium, growing like the Blight itself from the walls, floors and ceilings. And then suddenly we were outside, and I could see why the mark was reacting the way it was—the Breach encompassed the entire sky.

“The Breach! It’s…” I trailed off, staring up. I shook my head. Chunks of land the size of small cities floated above our heads, suspended by the energy from the Fade. A rift was close by—I could feel it. That had to be our priority for the moment.

Cassandra was injured in the fight against the demons near the rift—but not badly. Another rift—more demons—more injuries. Cassandra, Leliana and Solas were not moving at top speed, which was anything but surprising. Solas took a blow from a wisp, and Fen snarled, letting out a fearsome cry as she jumped and tore through the ephemeral thing. The rift was closed, and I was careful not to overload this one, as it too was next to a large shaft of red lyrium. I had not really thought about the amount of energy I poured into a rift when I closed it before. It was strange, but it helped me gain some sort of…control over the mark in my hand. I felt I understood it just a touch better now. The Fade was closer here than it had been a year ago. It was almost as if the two worlds were merging together.

We left the courtyard in favor the royal wing. As we entered, yet another mysterious voice was crying out. “I am not a child! I can resist you!”

The same voice replied, deeper, amused, “I am you.”

I heard a small scream and opened the door just in time to see someone standing by a fire. He was suddenly engulfed in flame, and the magic he had used to enhance the burn left no trace of the mage when it burned out.

“ _Why_?” I demanded, staring at the spot near the fire where he had been, moments before. “We could have helped him.”

“We will help him by making sure none of this happens,” Dorian said from behind me. I nodded, still feeling crestfallen. Dorian sighed, walking past me, towards the fireplace. “He resisted that demon to the last.”

There was a journal on the desk, and I read the open entry. I frowned. “It looks like we’re going to have to collect pieces of a key to get to him. He has some sort of…shard system. Each of his advisors has a shard, and only together can Alexius be reached.”

“Then we had better get started collecting,” Cassandra said from the doorway, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming down the hall.

It was good advice. As we set off, Dorian could contain his curiosity no longer. “What became of Felix? Do you know?”

“Yes, I know,” Leliana said cryptically.

“And you’re not going to tell me.” It wasn’t _really_ a question—more a tired speculation.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

We descended to the lower levels of the royal wing. When we reached the bottom floor—what might have once been the hall before the grand throne room. Of course there were demons, and of course there was a rift to be closed. We dealt with them as quickly as we could considering my friends were tiring—and it had been hours since Dorian or I had arrived. Our bodies were running on pure adrenaline. Fen, I could tell, was feeling the exhaustion more than I. She was still a pup, and probably needed close to ten hours of sleep a day.

As I was healing one of her paws, Dorian found the first shard.

“What in Andraste’s name is that?” He picked it up, looking at it closely. “This must be the first shard.”

“The magister’s grown paranoid,” Solas said, looking at the sealed throne room. “He’s barricaded himself in there and will not come out.”

“Come,” I said, standing. Fen leaned heavily against me, but was ready the second we started moving.

The rest of the shards were easy to find—it just took time. None of the Venatori were expecting us, so at least we were able to take each group by surprise. After the third group that we annihilated with little resistance, Dorian snorted and observed, “Doesn’t look like the Elder One is interested in saving his followers.”

“If he is even yet aware of our presence,” I said, picking up the piece of shard we had found. “He is no god, remember. Someone will have to inform him. And it’s not like he can teleport.”

“Tele-what?”

“Tele _port_ ,” I said, climbing up the stairs to get back to the hallway. “It means—oh, never mind.” Fen darted ahead, hearing another group further down. With a sigh and a shrug, we took off after her.

It was hard to believe that this was Redcliffe. It was absolutely destroyed. The walls were caving, the stone floor buckling and covered in soil—not to mention the lyrium that was literally tearing the place in two. None of that mattered. We had the last shard, and we could confront Alexius. As we stood over the bodies we had just slain, Cassandra shook her head. “May Andraste have mercy on your souls. No one else will,” she said, mirroring what I had said earlier. Or, perhaps, I had been mirroring her. We made our way quickly back to that hall, and to the door leading to the throne room where Alexius was no doubt hiding.

The door towered above us, huge in its size—made entirely of stone that looked cold, but I could feel the heat radiating out of it. Everything here was hot—probably from the lyrium. I inserted the shards, and they fused, glowing bright, and then the door opened. Alexius was standing before a huge fire at the opposite end of the throne room. While by no means untouched by the entropy this castle had suffered, it was perhaps the nicest room we had yet seen. There was rubble, true, but also rugs—though it looked as if he was burning the last of the furniture.

I saw the figure crouched beside him and my heart sank. I looked at Dorian, but it was clear the young man hadn’t recognized his friend. Alexius refused to turn around; he simply stared into the fire.

“My final failure,” he said finally.

“Was it worth it?” Dorian demanded. “Everything you did to the world? To yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.”

“It _does_ matter! Of course it matters!” I took a step forward, Fen by my side, her hackles up. “I will undo this. I will set this world back to the way it was.”

“How many times have I tried?” he demanded, more to himself than to me. “The past cannot be undone.” He inhaled sharply, and looked at his hands. “All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought?” He shook his head, dropping his hands. “Ruin and death. There is nothing else.” He half-turned, speaking once more to us. “The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all.”

I didn’t see her move, but suddenly Leliana was behind Felix. She grabbed him, pulled him upright and held a knife to his throat.

“Felix!” Alexius wailed, reaching for his son.

“That’s _Felix_?” Dorian gasped, befuddled to the point of being horrified. “Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done?”

“He would have died, Dorian! I _saved_ him!” Alexius looked back to Leliana, his hand still extended, desperately reaching for his boy. “Please, don’t hurt my son. I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Leliana, please,” I said, looking at her, feeling my stomach clench. “Don’t do this. Felix isn’t at fault.”

“Let him go, and I swear you’ll get what you want,” Alexius promised. He would have promised anything to get Felix back.

“ _I_ want the world back,” Leliana said starkly. She drew the knife across Felix’s unresisting throat, and the man collapsed, black blood spurting from the wound.

Alexius watched in horror as his son died, and then the shock wore off and he was grabbing his barbed staff, screaming, “No!”

Power erupted around him in the form of green light, sudden and blinding. He teleported, and instantly was behind us. We spun, and Fen was already running. Cassandra was right behind the wolf, letting out a battle cry. An arrow flew, and Solas and Dorian were casting before I truly had recovered from the horror of Felix’s death. As I planted my staff in front of me, I had one thought: I would set things _right_.

Alexius opened a rift, and demons poured out. As we fought them, he locked himself behind a wall of energy, untouchable. Once they were dead and the rift gone, the barrier dissolved and we resumed our attack. Again, he created another rift and we had to fight more demons before we could turn our attention back to the magister. It took time and effort, and by the end, Fen was cut, Solas’ shoulder looked dislocated, and Cassandra was bleeding heavily from a wound on her thigh, but we had _defeated him_.

Dorian knelt by his old mentor, picking through his belongings to find the amulet. After a moment, he said, “He wanted to die, didn’t he?” He looked up at me, all the sadness in the world in his eyes. “All those lies he told himself, the justifications…He lost Felix long ago and didn’t even notice, Oh, Alexius…”

“It isn’t too late,” I said, finishing up the last touches of healing. I gave Solas’ shoulder a squeeze, looking for any indication he was still in pain. He nodded his thanks, and I watched him step away from me. “The Alexius from a year ago may see reason.”

“Yes,” Dorian said, standing once more. “I suppose that’s true.” He held up the cubed amulet. “This is the same amulet he used before. I think it’s the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief.” He looked at it, then back up, his expression laced with determination. “Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift.”

“An hour?” Leliana scoffed, marching up to us both. “That’s impossible! You must go now!”

As she spoke, we heard a deafening roar of sound. The ground shook, and we all nearly lost our balance. The door—the _stone door_ —rattled, and one of the remaining hangings on the wall fell. Leliana looked at us, her expression grim. “The Elder One.”

“You cannot stay here,” Solas said. His expression was one of grief. My heart stumbled. I took a step towards him, Fen letting out a small whine. He continued, ignoring the panic on my face. “ _You_ must survive.” He looked directly into my eyes as he spoke, then turned to Leliana. “We’ll hold the outer door. When they get past us, it will be your turn.”

“No!” I said, dashing up to him. I gripped his hands, and looked at Cass, then back to Solas. “I won’t let you commit suicide.”

“Look at us!” Leliana exclaimed, throwing her arms out. “We’re already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes.”

Solas pulled away—or tried to. I made an inarticulate noise, and could not stop myself. I grabbed him, wrapped his burning body in my arms and kissed him. He was stiff against me, surprised, and I expected him to fight me, to pull away, to rebuke me and tell me we had no time—but he _didn’t_. He made a noise, low in his throat, and then his lips, so soft even now, so _hot_ , were moving against my own. He pushed my mouth open, and I tasted him as his tongue ran across my lower lip, then moved in further. His arms circled around me just as tightly, and one of his hands found its way to my bottom. He grabbed it, squeezing as he pressed me against him and I was breathless—the feeling was so intense, the desire I could feel in him, the desperation, and then he was gone, ripped from me as he left with Cassandra.

“Solas!” I cried, my voice breaking. He did not look back. The doors closed behind my two friends, and I was left, shaking, Fen the only thing keeping me standing. Leliana turned away from me.

“Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows.”

Dorian moved back, demanding that I join him where we had stood several hours, and a year, ago. I stumbled to him, staring at the door, my heart breaking. Even if we saved them—even if we made it back, that Solas— _that_ Solas was going to die. I didn’t realize I was crying until the tears running off my chin itched my skin. Leliana set up, planting herself between us and the gargantuan doors. She notched an arrow and waited. As she waited, I could hear her speak.

“Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame.”

Something slammed into the doors. My heart dropped and my throat was so tight that I could no longer swallow. The entryway shook, and the next thing I knew, demons and Venatori were strolling in, walking slowly, determined. A terror demon tossed a lifeless Cassandra onto the ground. Solas was nowhere in sight.

“Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side.”

An arrow flew. A mage went down. Another arrow, and this time it was a warrior who dropped. They were closing in. I stepped forward, and Fen growled, biting the tails of my vest. Dorian reached for me, stopping me as well. “You move, and we all die!”

They were fighting her now, hand to hand combat. She was using her bow to deflect their bludgeons, but it was only a matter of time. I felt the energy before it happened. My hand burned, flaring bright as the mark reacted to the portal. That energy poured through me, attracted to the Breach that loomed so very close. A rogue grabbed Leliana from behind, and her eyes locked onto mine as she died. The energy inside of me nearly made me explode with rage, and it took every ounce of self-control that I possessed to walk through that portal, side by side with Fen. Dorian was a moment behind us as I strolled back into the throne room, one year prior.

Dorian took the lead, maybe sensing I was too emotional to speak. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he said to Alexius as the man stood exactly where he had been when he cast that _damned_ spell.

The aging magister dropped to his knees. I said nothing, only stared. The energy was pouring through me still—it needed an out, and I had just the right idea. I swallowed, and found my voice, though it shook with the effort it took to keep that magic from spilling out of my hand through the mark.

“Put aside all claim to Redcliffe, and we let you live.”

“You won. There is no point in extending this charade.” His head, which had been hanging in defeat, rose. He looked at his son. “Felix…”

The young man knelt by his father, taking his hand. “It’s going to be all right, Father.”

“You’ll die.”

“Everyone dies.”

As the Inquisition soldiers poured forward, I stepped up. I held my hand to them, signaling them to wait. “ _No_ ,” I said, staring at Felix. Fen started jumping nervously beside me, barking and tugging on my vest. I ignored her, striding forward.

“ _Lethallan_ ,” I heard Solas say, and for a moment, almost felt my knees give way. If I looked at him, I would throw myself at him and hold him and cry. I could not. I had to do this. Felix was staring at me inquisitively as I approached him. He did not resist when I dropped to my knees beside him. I took his face into my hands, inhaled deeply, heard Solas calling my name again, the sound almost panicked, and then the magic from that future that never would be was draining out of me. Felix gasped, his spine arching. Distantly, I was aware that Alexius was yelling, that he had to be detained, but it didn’t matter. I became the energy that was streaming out of me, and I entered Felix. It was similar to what I had done with Fen, but different—for a moment then, I had become Fen; here, now, I was simply _inside_ of Felix.

I could feel the taint within him. He had lasted so long—not many infected with the Blight could fight this hard. I pushed through his veins, heard him screaming, and tried to calm him. I tried to tell him, without words, that it would be all right. The screaming stopped, and though his body remained tense, shaking, he relaxed. He knew. He understood. I felt a question from him, mired through the pain. How? Was I sure this was safe?

I had no answers for him.

I flowed through him, raw magic like a tide washing away the sand on the shore. That’s…that’s what the Blight felt like, inside of him. It felt like tiny grains of sand. It was clearly an infection, and obviously killing him, but it reminded me so much the way the red lyrium had felt, singing and hot and sweltering, back in that future that was now gone. I could hear it singing in his veins. It called to me. And I let it. I picked up every grain; I absorbed every little speck of it that I found. It took hours—days—to find every single piece, for I could leave nothing behind. He would die if I did, and I would not have the energy to do this again.

Finally, what seemed like a week later, I withdrew from Felix. He gasped, collapsing beside me, breathing erratically. I was still thrumming with energy, with power. My hand…I was holding the grains of Blight in my left hand. I opened my eyes to look at it, and everything was…strange. The world glowed with light brighter than the noon sun. Energy like mana swirled around everything—everything was made out of it, and everything was connected. Everything was moving so slowly. It took me hours to get my eyes fully open. My hand…my hand was different. It was darkness. The darkness, the lack of light, was reaching out, trying to consume everything around it—trying to absorb the glow, the life. It…it was a tear, in a way: a tear in the fabric of reality as I understood it. It was not like the rest. It was almost like a rift, broken and needing…needing to be sealed.

So I poured energy into it.

I could hear myself screaming, but it was removed—far away. I was screaming as the world around me screamed. I pulled from the Fade—I pulled as much energy as I could from the Beyond, from the past/future that had been eradicated, from myself, from Fen—and it would not be enough. I knew in that moment that I had made a mistake. This Blight—this tiny infection no larger than a few dozen grains of sand—was going to devour me.

It was going to consume me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is short in comparison, and I usually try NOT to end on a cliffhanger so no one suffers needlessly while waiting for the next chapter...but the muses speak, and I listen.


	11. Corypheus

The darkness in my hand was never ending. I had thought it was like a rift, but I had been wrong. Similar—in a way—in that both were something _wrong_ with this world, but different the way a cold was different from blood poisoning. One could be treated with a tea, with fresh foods, with rest; one could not. One would kill you no matter how much energy you poured into it. One consumed until there was nothing left but taint and infection and death.

There was nothing now. The energy from the Fade was the only thing pouring into that Blight—for mine was gone. The second I severed that connection was the second my heart would cease to beat. I knew that, distantly. I also knew that Fen’s life was tied to my own. When I had regrown her limb, I had joined us. When I poured my energy into the taint, hers came too. When I died, she would.

I could not let that happen.

I needed to go where I could reshape reality to my will. That was the only chance I had. Unfortunately, I had no energy to do it—I could not divert an iota of the power I was pulling from the Beyond to open a rift. The Blight was drinking it all.

‘ _What have you done?_ ’ The familiar voice of Mythal was a thought in my mind. It shocked me, but also made me acutely aware of my body, as if waking me from a trance. The pain was intolerable. I could feel the Blight—it was trying to infect the mark. It…it was almost as if it had consciousness. It knew that this was power, and this could feed it, and this could help it spread.

‘ _I must get to the Fade_ ,’ I told Her, without words. I could not form them for my life. I simply…felt them, directed those feelings to Her.

‘ _No!_ ’ The word was a shout between my ears. ‘ _It must_ not _reach the Fade. If you should fail to master it to your will there, the damage it could do would be untenable._ ’

My teeth ground together hard, and I didn’t think the muscles in my body could be more tense. ‘ _Strong enough,_ ’ I was able to think, using every ounce of concentration not to lose my grip on the Fade—not to sever my connection to it. ‘ _Trust. Me._ ’

I could practically hear her sigh. ‘ _Even if I believed you, it is not so easy. I could not get you back._ ’

There was a rift not _too_ far away—by a cave—that we had not yet closed. I wasn’t sure how I knew it was there, but I did. I tried to convey the information to her.

‘ _You would have to survive not only the Blight, but demons uncountable to reach it. And then you would have to hope that you could make it across the rift, where more demons would undoubtedly be waiting.’_

There was _no other choice_. I practically snarled the thought at her, no longer capable of words. It was now or never.

‘ _You should consider yourself fortunate that you have created a rift through all this nonsense. I will pull you through._ ’ There was a moment of silence. ‘ _Do not make Me regret this. More than you realize depends upon you now._ ’

I hadn’t realized that I had created one—I hadn’t realized anything beyond my physical body and the Blight, however. Everything else was silent and numb. And then the world shook.

It felt as if hands—or perhaps talons—huge and hard and _hot_ , grabbed me by my shoulders. I felt myself become airborne for a moment, and then there was a sickening jolt, as if reality was rewriting itself around me, pushing against my skin and tearing it into shreds. I heard someone scream, “No!” from a far distance, and the sound was thick, as if underwater. The mark on my hand flared in a flash of light so bright, that it hurt my eyes despite the fact that they were closed. The rift was sealed behind me. And then I was dropped onto hard rock. I gasped for air, suddenly able to breathe—only I wasn’t sure if it was entirely necessary here. The air felt thin, light, and yet it satisfied my lungs in a way I could not describe. The pain was gone, but the darkness was still pulling at my hand.

I looked at the mark, and saw the blackness had enveloped my skin—had spread up to my elbow and was crawling higher at a rapid rate. In the Fade, it was easier for it to travel. I stared at it and grinned fiercely. I could almost feel its thoughts—if one could call them that. Its…intention? It was seeking something, and being here made it so much easier. It thought it would destroy me. If it had cognitive abilities, they were clearly limited. That was an interesting idea, though. The Blight with cognition? What if red lyrium really _was_ just lyrium infected with the Blight? Hadn’t someone mentioned how lyrium seemed…alive? Dagna? Had it been Dagna?

A pain in my hand, pulsing and sharp, brought me out of my thoughts and back into the present. The Fade responded to my will, and it would respond to my will over that of the Blight’s because _I was stronger_. I knew that I was, and not some abstract sort of knowing that was based on hope—I was firm. I _knew_.

I closed my hand tightly into a fist and, grinning, focused on how the Blight _felt_. Infection. Disease. Death. Decay. Rot. Corruption. It was a corruption.

And so I made it cleanliness. I made it wholesome.

“You are purity,” I told it, my voice almost a shock to my ears. “You are. You are a part of me. You are whole. You are _life_.”

It was not a gradual thing, and yet I could not pinpoint the precise moment that it happened. One second it was the silent death, a poison in the blood, and the next it was merely a part of me—like any other part, except…except there was a small hum from my arm. I could hear my skin, my flesh, my blooding singing. This was not the song of red lyrium that clouded the mind and muddied the thoughts; no. This was a song of strength, of passion, of grass growing through snow, of rain softening earth. The green light from my hand was mixing with the soft blue light now emanating from my forearm.

“ _Lethallan_!”

I turned around, the voice surprising me. I stared at Solas, my eyes wide. “How?” I demanded.

He didn’t answer. He grabbed my arm and stared at it, his storm-blue eyes wide as he examined me. I could feel his magic here in the Fade so much more strongly than in Thedas. It caressed my skin, and then sank in, seeking. After a moment, he dropped my limb, shaking his head in disbelief. “I do not understand. I can find no trace of Blight. Only now…now there is a sort of energy the likes of which I have never experienced.”

“Oh, Solas,” I said, my heart overwhelmed. I could feel his lyrium-blighted body hot in my arms; could feel his mouth desperate and sweltering on my own. I threw my arms around him, burying my face against him. I didn’t care how he was here. “You _died_.” His muscles were tight under my grip, but I could not make myself let go. I pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “In the future—the future that Dorian and I saw—you sacrificed yourself for us. You, Cass and Leliana. You died to send us back. You were infected with red lyrium. You—” My voice cracked and I had to stop, swallow. “You let me kiss you and then you _died to save us_. Solas, I—”

Solas cut me off by cupping my jaw and pressing his thumb gently against my lips. I looked at him, trying not to cry. He shook his head. “We do not have time. You are alone here. We must find a rift to get you out.”

I gently nipped his thumb. He pulled back, his hand dropping, ears growing pink. He had _kissed me back_ —but there was time for that later. Plenty of time. I let him go, much to his visible relief. “I know of one. But wait—how are you here? If I’m alone?”

One corner of his mouth quirked upwards into the semblance of a smirk. “Can you not surmise? We can enter the Fade in dream _only_ when we are without a mark that allows us to open rifts.”

“Ooh,” I said, my eyebrows up. “You…you fell asleep? In Redcliffe Castle?”

He snorted back a laugh. “Stranger things have happened. The fact that you opened a rift and then it _pulled you_ in bodily; or even you absorbing the Blight into your person, for instance, is quite strange. One might say impossible.”

“Not in the Fade! Anything is possible.”

“Not…entirely.”

I smiled, rubbing my tears away. “Well, it’s good that I did not know that. Now come on; we have a rift to find.”

There was a lake, similar to the one in Redcliffe itself, only this was black, tinged with purple and violet. I expected there to be a means of crossing it, since that would be the fastest way to reach the rift, and there was; a bridge, long and made of stone, greeted us. Solas allowed me to take his hand and squeeze it as we crossed. He watched me out of the corner of his eye, and I could not read his expression. Was he happy? Was he relieved I had lived? Was he curious? Was he…wary?

“Mythal said there would be demons,” I said, casually, “but I think she was anticipating me to _expect_ demons. Each time I’ve been in the Fade, I’ve not encountered even a spirit, however, so I think we shall be fine.”

“I have been shielding you,” he said simply.

I stopped in my tracks, dropping his hand. “You _what_?”

He paused, looking back at me. “Certain…activities in which you were indulging were drawing a noticeable amount of attention. And so I shielded you, similarly to how I shielded myself that night you found me partaking in a…similar act.”

I stared at him, and could not have been more self-conscious. Nothing could have made me more embarrassed in that moment; it was impossible. “You…you know what I was doing in the Fade. Do you know with whom?”

The apostate, ever respectful, inclined his head. “I did not suppose that to be my business.”

“And you don’t _mind_?” I demanded, torn between relief and heartbreak—what if he truly did not care? What if that kiss in the future that would never be…what if he had only indulged me because he did not know if I would survive, and wanted me to have something I so desperately craved before I…

“Why should I mind?” he asked, oblivious to my heart cracking behind my ribs. I stared at him hard, smiled to keep from crying, and walked past him. He followed close behind. “I do not understand,” he said. “Your affairs are your own—you are warm blooded, and as such, one has certain desires and needs that seek to be fulfilled.”

“You’re an idiot,” I said, cutting off his stream of thought. “A complete and utter idiot.”

“ _Fen_.” His tone was exasperated. He took hold of my shoulder, and spun me around. I stared at him defiantly, trying my damnedest not to let my eyes water. “How have I upset you now?”

“I…” I trailed off. It wasn’t his fault if he didn’t feel the same way about me as I did him—to punish him for that was childish and unfair. I shook my head. “Dorian and I…we were sent to the future. You were dying, poisoned by red lyrium. And you sacrificed your own life so Dorian and I could make it back to the present…and before you did, I kissed you.” He did not seem _entirely_ surprised by that. “But Solas—you kissed me back. And I thought…I thought maybe you might…” Despite my best efforts, my eyes were watering. I brushed at the tears in annoyance, and when the drops went flying, scattered in the Fade, little spirits—wisps—formed where they landed. The tiny beings of light swirled around me, leaving me breathless with wonder. I reached out to gingerly touch one. This…this wasn’t something I was supposed to do. I knew, as I knew so many things, that this was a talent Vivienne possessed, but me? When they responded to my touch by glowing a soft pink and spinning faster, I swallowed.

“Your magic,” Solas said, picking up my left hand and looking at the blue light still emanating from my forearm, “has intensified. You can create wisps, if one can call them that. This is a most unusual gift.”

“But not unheard of, right?” I squeaked, feeling somewhat nervous. Oh, Creators, what had I done?

“No, not unheard of.” Absently, his thumbs began a deep, but tender, massage of the muscles of my hand as he let his magic wash through me again, searching, learning. “It is strange; I noticed this when I examined you moments ago, but it seems that what was once the Blight has become some sort of…creative ability.” He looked up at me, his eyes intense. “What did you focus on when you were transforming it?”

“Nothing!” I said, wishing he would never let go of my hand—his touch felt too good. “I just…” My eyes grew wide and I covered my mouth with my free hand. “Oh, Solas. I called it purity. I called it _life_.”

“I imagine that that particular ability will be confined to the Fade.” His voice, when he spoke, was gentle—reassuring. I nodded, letting my hand drop away from my face. He continued massaging the mound beneath my thumb, but after a moment, released me. “Come; we need to hurry. I will shield you as much as I can, but it is different while you are…physically here and I am not. More difficult.”

I nodded, and we began walking together again, my little wisps following me. They did not _feel_ like average wisps, and the longer they orbited me, the more certain I was that they were not. They kept fluctuating between pink and green, and one attached itself to Solas, preferring to circle him to me. They seemed to have some sort of willpower, I thought, especially because a few wandered off eventually. I tried to reach out to one with my magic, and while it responded by swirling around me faster, I couldn’t touch it. It wasn’t like the connection I had with Fen where I could feel her, could sense what she was experiencing—these were separate from me.

We came across no demons—well, none that were not avoidable. In the distance, I thought I saw a sloth demon sleeping, its spiked bear body unmoving other than the occasional snore of breath. We passed it without waking it, and I briefly wondered if I would encounter any spirits here. I hoped so—I would have loved to meet a spirit of wisdom, or compassion. I noticed, as we were nearing the rift, the wisp that was circling Solas began to change shape. It slid from perfectly spherical to oblong, and then it seemed to be growing…legs? Four? It was still small, no larger than both of my hands put together, but it seemed to be transforming into the shape of a wolf.

Solas took notice when I did, and frowned at the little thing. “I would appreciate it if you desisted,” he said, his voice gentle despite his words. The thing immediately lost its shape, becoming a sphere again. It darted behind one of his hands, hiding, yet still close to him. I smiled—maybe it thought he was its creator? Or it had, what was the term, imprinted on him, like a baby chick?

“It likes you is all,” I murmured, nudging him. “And maybe you remind it of Fen’Harel, the way you do me.”

He looked at me, and though his expression did not change, there was a stark and drastic difference in his eyes. They had become guarded. “I remind you of an ancient Elvhen being worshipped as a deity and feared by the Dalish?”

I sighed, wanting to throttle him. “Not this again; I told you how I feel about Fen’Harel. I told you how I feel about you. The two of you…” I shook my head, raking a hand through my hair. When I pulled it away, three new wisps floated out into the Fade. One joined my little cluster, and the other two drifted away. “You feel the same. A similar energy. Perhaps it is because you are both so wise, and have seen so much of history? Or the fact that I trust you both implicitly. I can’t explain it, not really. It just…is.”

“You trust us implicitly?” He sounded skeptical, but I knew that skepticism was not necessarily directed at me. “What if what I wanted was to change all of Thedas? What if what I wanted was to turn back time and destroy the machinations of the current political powers absolutely?” As he spoke, he ran his hands gently over the energetic orb that had become attracted to him. He brought it up before him and was almost playing a game with it. It would turn over one hand, and the other would “catch it,” only to let it slip and be caught again.

There was no restraining my smile. “You think I don’t want the exact same things, Solas? I would destroy the Tevinter Imperium. I would abolish alienages, the division in Orzammar, the brainwashing of the Qunari, the corruption in Orlais—all of it.” I set my jaw sternly, worried for a moment that I might sound _too_ fanatical. But it was too late; there was no taking my words back. “Freedom knows no price, _lethallin_.”

And then he said the most unexpected thing; rather than agree or disagree with me, he changed the subject entirely. “You know, I do not prefer to be called that by you.” When hurt and confusion crossed my face, he hurriedly continued. “It does not mean what I believe you think it does.”

“The same as _lethallan_ —cousin, kin, one who is close—”

“You are correct the first two definitions: cousin and kin both are as accurate as this human speech allows. However, it differs from _lethallan_ substantially. The ending of one denotes a blood relationship—the ending of the other connotes a relationship of the heart: a bond forged where no common blood is mixed.”

“But we have common blood, Solas,” I said, confused. I had thought it meant a difference in gender.

“We share no relations, and nor do I aspire to have mingled blood with you. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

I stared at him. The wisps around me sped slightly, one brushing up against my cheek. I gently touched it, felt a small jolt of warm energy—the feeling of comfort—and let my hand fall again. “What do you mean?” My voice was a small thing, and I cleared my throat, determined not to be weak or appear small.

He turned and looked at me and for a moment, so fast I was sure I had imagined it, his eyes were full of desire, more than I had ever hoped to see. Just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by cool interest. “I mean, _lethallan_ , that I would be ashamed of my thoughts at this moment if—”

He cut himself off and shook his head. He sighed, and turned away. “I need to tell the others where you are headed. We need to be there when you emerge, in case there are demons that need to be battled. Seeing that you have dominated the will of the Blight, my primary fear is abated. I should not have been surprised; your will has proven time and again to be indomitable.”

“Wait,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. “Solas…do you dislike me? I can never tell. Some moments, I think perhaps…perhaps there is hope, and others I am certain there is no one you despise more.”

He turned abruptly, looking truly surprised. “You think I despise you?” he demanded, incredulous.

I swallowed, letting my fingers slip off of his sleeve. “I can’t tell.”

The apostate shook his head slowly, still stung with shock. “It might be better—easier—for you if I did. I do not, but this is a debate for another day. You must hurry. And please, _lethallan_ ,” he looked into my eyes, wanting me to see how serious he was, “be safe. I believe these wisps will help protect you, but if you can avoid danger, do so.” He removed his jawbone necklace, and held it out. I accepted it with some confusion.

“This will protect you from encountering any lower level spirits or demons, and should help camouflage you from ones whose power might rival yours.”

“Won’t it just…disappear when you do?”

He shook his head once, smiling slightly.

I nodded, slipping it over my head. “Are you…are you sure you know the area where the rift is?”

“Based off of your description, I believe so. I _shall_ see you soon, Fen.”

I smiled at him, a tentative thing. He hesitated, and then as if making a decision, firmly, took my hand and gave it a light squeeze before disappearing before my eyes.

I made it to the rift alone, and without running into any demons or spirits; the necklace, or amulet, or whatever it was, must have worked. It was…interesting to go through. I waited a few minutes, and said goodbye to all the wisps. They drifted away from me slowly, and once the last one was gone, I pushed my way through it. Push, perhaps, was the wrong word. Once I got close enough to it, it was all I could do not to be sucked through. I could feel the demons on the other side—and I prayed that my friends would be there to help me.

My first shock, coming through, aside from how heavy and dense everything felt, and yet how sweet the air was, was that the blue glowing did not diminish completely; it dimmed, yet a faint trace of it could be seen from forearm to wrist. Great, _more_ glowing. My second shock was that the necklace was still a weight against my chest. But then I was surrounded by demons inside of a cave and had little time to afford for the additional light on my person. I was able to cast a barrier on myself just in time as two despair demons turned their _full_ attention to me, casting beams of ice at me. I let out a small yelp, Fade stepping right as a terror demon tried to grab me from beneath the ground. I charged past a rage demon, barely dodging its trail of lava as I ran for the mouth of the cave. Relief swept over me as sunlight hit my face and I felt—and there she was!

Fen was racing ahead of the others, running faster than I had ever seen. Her eyes were bright and for a moment, I thought she was going to jump-tackle me, but she slammed into a despair demon who had followed me to the mouth of the cave. I spun back around, cast a barrier around my friend, and fell into battle beside her, confident the others would reach me in time to help. I froze the rage demon as it moved to attack Fen, and then Solas was sliding to a halt beside me, creating a lightning cage around one of the terrors, freezing it in its place. Cassandra was there next, followed lastly by Dorian. The five of us worked together to defeat all the demons and to close the rift.

It was strange—I hadn’t slept in about a day, and yet I wasn’t tired. Not even slightly. I looked at my hand as energy from the Fade shot out and sealed the rift. The blue glowed bright with the green, not nearly to the same degree, but noticeably. I wondered if my energy, my clarity of mind, had anything to do with what was happening in that arm.

Dorian was leaning heavily on his staff, exhausted. “Please—please tell me we are going to make camp soon. No stamina draught will be enough to get a day’s journey out of me.”

“Of course,” Cassandra said, not looking away from me. “And then Fen can inform us as to what she did to the son of the magister.”

“I healed him,” I said simply.

“You can _heal_ the Blight now?” she demanded, her tone fierce, disbelieving.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, I couldn’t do it again. It would have killed me if I hadn’t been able to get into the Fade. That’s the only reason I survived—the Fade helped me reshape it.”

“We should talk about that,” Dorian said lightly. “Going bodily into the Fade. I imagine _that_ was terrifying, but I would be interested in how you converted the Blight into…Maker, is your arm _blue_?”

I nervously shifted on my feet. Fen came up and butted her head into my hand, forcing me to pet her, to reassure her that I would not leave her behind again. I knelt down beside her, running my fingers through her fur. “I don’t know. I transformed the Blight by _thinking_ it. The Fade responds to one’s will—and the stronger one’s will, the more control one has over it. I simply had a stronger resolve than the Blight.” I smiled a little, not entirely happy. “If it had been red lyrium, I think I would have died regardless. The Blight…the Blight _almost_ had consciousness. A ham sandwich could probably have been successful.”

“While I find that to be high speculative, I will have to take your word for it.” Dorian stood straight, no longer using his staff like a crutch. “Do you think you could replicate what you did? I understood so little of what was happening—it was not until you entered the Fade that I even realized you had _healed_ Felix.”

“ _No_ ,” I said, emphatically. “I almost died, Dorian. I _accidentally_ opened that Fade rift—and if I hadn’t, I would have died and the Blight might have spread to everyone in that room. It was after the mark. Who knows what it would have done if it had corrupted it.” I shuddered suddenly, wrapping my arms around Fen. She nuzzled me, looking up at me with her large eyes. “I could have doomed the whole world. I didn’t think; I just acted. To do so again would be…” I swallowed, trying not to let that thought enter my mind. “To do so again would be careless not only with my own life, but with the lives of all those in Thedas.”

Dorian’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “I…see. Well. Back to camp then, shall we?”

As I stood, I paused, my eyes growing bright. “You’re coming back with us?”

“Oh, didn’t I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces.”

I smiled at him and resisted the urge to roll my eyes, then froze. I spun to face Cassandra. “Cass—what happened to the mages? Are they safe?”

“They were expelled from Ferelden,” she said tightly. “We have taken them into our custody.”

“Our _custody_?” I demanded, looking from her to Solas, then back. “No. They are _not_ going to be our prisoners. Do _not_ fight me on this, Cassandra. Where are they?”

“I told you she wouldn’t be pleased,” Dorian chimed, ever helpful.

“We sent them ahead to Haven—”

I didn’t let her finish. I jumped to my feet, Fen at my heels, and sprinted to where I hoped my friends had tethered horses. I found them quickly and mounted one, no longer caring whether or not I did so delicately. Fen was still right beside me as I took off, riding hard. There were hundreds of mages on the march, and it took me very little time to find them. My friends caught up to me before I to the mages, and I normally would have been amused to see Dorian riding sitting behind Cassandra, his arms around her waist, but as it stood, I needed this to be cleared up.

The mages were hemmed in by Inquisition soldiers and scouts, and they looked scared—unsure. I would not let them think they were going to be slaves again. I nearly vaulted off of my horse as I approached, holding my left hand high when one of the scouts made to stop me. Fen growled at the girl, but I touched her and she lowered her hackles. And then we were marching forward, my face a mask of determination, my jaw set and firm. I found Fiona at the head of the group. I dropped to my knees before her, bowing my head.

“I apologize,” I began, a little winded from exertion and fatigue, “for the actions of my friends, and that which they chose to do in my absence.” I looked up at her just in time to see the confusion on her face, stark and heart-breaking, quickly covered when my eyes met her own. “You are _not_ the prisoners of the Inquisition. You are free to leave.”

Fiona’s mask slipped, revealing her shock again. “You would…let us go? Just like that?”

I nodded, standing once more, one hand resting on Fen for support. “Yes. I would. We would.”

Cassandra marched up behind, and I could feel the disapproval radiating out of her. “Herald. You must think about what you are doing. We cannot waste our time and resources coddling _rebels_. We must have a united front—”

It was all I could do to remind myself to stay calm. I breathed deeply and told myself not to let my exhaustion make me lose my temper. “Seeker Pentaghast,” I said, noting how her eyes widened a fraction at the use of her title and last name, “I will _not_ be part and parcel of a tyrannical movement. You want me to play Herald? Fine. I’ll stop correcting people when they call me that. But I will not sit by and allow innocent people to be taken hostage and _conscripted_ because of a matter of birth and genetics!” I stopped myself short, my voice having risen. I closed my eyes, counted to five, and then continued. “I will not take hostages. I will not keep slaves. I will not make innocent people fear for their safety needlessly.” If she pushed the issue, I would leave the Inquisition and try to do this on my own—maybe the mages would help me, if I could get them free. I didn’t think it would come to that—but I was prepared.

“I…” Cassandra shook her head once. “I should have realized what you would have preferred. I am sorry I made a hasty decision, based on fear. If you truly think it wise to let them go free, then I will support your decision.”

Every single muscle in my body had been tense, positively contracted with nervousness. Hearing her say that—I practically sagged with relief. I wouldn’t hug her here—mostly because I didn’t think she would appreciate the gesture in front of so many others, but I would later. Smiling, I turned back to Fiona. “You are free to go. You are also free to stay as guests and valued members of the Inquisition.”

“I’m glad to see the Inquisition _is_ better than Alexius,” Dorian said, in all seriousness.

“We have nowhere to go,” Fiona said, her expression muted but, at least, slightly more relaxed. “It seems we have little choice _but_ to accept whatever you offer.”

“Grand Enchanter, I would be honored to fight alongside you—as an ally.”

“I’ll pray that the rest of the Inquisition honors your promise, then,” she said, understanding the tension in the movement. She was aware that we had templars—ex-templars, but templars nonetheless—in our ranks.

“They will, especially when they learn how you will help us close the Breach. All of Thedas is threatened by it—we will not be divided now.”

“We accept,” Fiona declared. “It would be madness not to.”

I offered her my hand to shake. She took it after hesitating only a moment. I squeezed her in reassurance then let her go. “Come; we have a long journey. I will return with you to Haven to make sure you are treated well.”

“Thank you,” she said, again surprised. The hint of a smile brushed her lips. “The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance.”

I returned her smile, my own twice as bright. I was so glad this was resolved. I remembered, or felt, rather, that Cassandra had disapproved of this choice so vehemently. And yet she had barely fought me on it—I would have to talk to her later, to see what was going on.

Despite my sudden exhaustion, we carried on with the huge group. Our numbers were immense, so travel was slow. Dorian complained intermittently about how fatigued he was, and I had to wrestle Fen up onto the horse with me so she could nap. It seemed every day she was larger and larger—surely she would be fully grown within the month?

At some point during the afternoon, I fell asleep on my horse and managed to fall out of my saddle. Since it was almost dusk, Cassandra decided that would be a good time to break for camp. Before curling up in my bedroll, I managed to drape myself over the Seeker in a surprise hug. She tensed, unsure how to respond.

“H-herald?”

I gave her a squeeze. “Cass,” I said, pulling back but not letting go. “Thank you. I know you don’t trust the mages. I know you blame them for the rebellion. But I…thank you so much for supporting me. It means more than I can say.” I tried not to get teary eyed, but the level of tiredness that had seeped into me made it difficult.

“I…” she shook her head. “Do not thank me. I did it because I truly, now more than ever, believe you to be the Herald of Andraste. The Will of the Maker acts through you.”

I groaned, releasing her. I ran my hands over my face. “Cass—no, I’m _not_ —”

“You _cured a man of the Blight_ ,” she hissed under her breath, not wanting others to overhear. The impact of her words hit me hard, and I staggered back, eyes wide. Oh my Creators, she was _right_. It hadn’t seemed like much of anything at the time—yes, I had almost died—but it was _huge_ , and that story was going to spread. Fiona had seen me do it. The Inquisition soldiers who had been there to storm the castle had _seen me do it_. I grabbed her shoulder, looking at her quickly.

“Cassandra, we cannot allow anyone to deify me. Cass—please—I can’t—I’m not—I cannot do it again, and they’re going to _want me to_.” Panic welled up in my chest. Fen growled beside me, pacing around me protectively, her eyes seeking any who would dare approach us. Dorian, who had been on his way over, turned abruptly and marched back the way he had come.

“I have done my best to stymie the rumors,” Cassandra said. “I told the soldiers to not report to any what they saw—that it was a matter of security. And I made it clear to Fiona that she should do the same. If our men are as loyal as I believe them to be, news of this will _not_ spread.”

I nodded, feeling my panic abate, but only slightly. I hoped—prayed—that she was right. I did not need anyone thinking I was some miraculous and divine being, here to save the world. I was going to do all I could, but I was just… _me_. A person. Nothing more.

As I was finally curling up in my bedding, Solas lay down to my right, Fen on my left. He looked me over. “Are you well, _lethallan_?”

“Terrified,” I said. I turned onto my side to face him. “Solas…I don’t really understand how I did what I did earlier. The more I think about it, the more impossible it seems. I just…I hope news of it doesn’t get out. I don’t need anyone thinking I’m more than what I am.”

“And what is that?” he asked, his voice soft and gentle in that growing darkness.

“An elf. Just an elf.”

“You’re so much more than ‘just an elf,’” he said, just as gently but firm now, insistent.

“I didn’t mean—I mean I’m no better than anyone else. I’m no more special. It’s not like I have more power or capability—it’s just the mark—”

“While I would caution against glorifying those the Dalish consider gods,” he said, cutting me off, “I might remind you that you were chosen by Mythal. She traveled to another world to find you, and picked _you_.”

There was no point in denying that, and yet it felt hollow to me. I blinked back any tears of frustration that might have welled in my eyes. “Solas…I’m scared. I don’t want people to look at me and see me as some Herald of a god I don’t believe in. I want them to see _me_.”

He reached out and took my hand. He threaded his fingers through my own and gave me a reassuring squeeze. My eyelids were drooping, too heavy to keep open. How long ago was it since I had slept? I couldn’t say. Solas said something—something about a difficult path, about strength and courage—but I missed it. Sleep was closing in on me, and the hand in mine was a comfort. I thought to myself how I wished I could always have this—to feel this support. To not be alone. I may have said it out loud because I felt Solas’ hand squeeze mine tightly just as I drifted off.

 

**~**

 

“I should not have left you the way I did.”

I spun around, my heart in my throat. That voice—it was! It was _him_. We were standing in that tree-chamber from before, the one piled high with books and a bed made of furs and pillows. I swallowed, looking at him as he stood, so far away, across the room and by the window, his back to the curtains. I licked my lips slowly, feeling them suddenly dry. What should I say to that when all I wanted was to throw him onto those furs and make him never think of leaving me again?

“Is that an apology?”

A head tilt. His cheeks moved, but his face was shadowed. A smile? “An attempt at one,” he answered.

I took a step closer. “You’re sorry you left?”

“I am sorry for the way I left,” he clarified, though he too took a step towards me.

My pulse was hammering away, and the air seemed…electrified. “You’re not sorry that you left me?” One step closer.

He took a step. “I did what I felt was necessary at the time. I cannot promise you that I will be yours forever, and I do not want to hurt you.”

Another step. There was a thickness to the atmosphere, making my breaths sharp and fast. The scent of him was making it very hard to think. “Don’t you think I have a say too? You don’t just get to decide what’s best for me without consulting me. That isn’t right.”

He paused, mid-step. “I…” He straightened his shoulders and finished the step. “You are correct, of course. That being said, I can make no promise that I will not still have to leave in the future.”

One final step. We were chest to chest. I looked up at him and smiled. “Do you want me?”

“More than my lungs desire air do I crave you—”

My arms were around his neck before he could finish his sentence. His mouth was warm and ready for mine, open and inviting. I had missed his taste—like wilderness and heartbeat and starlight. His arms enfolded me, pulling me closer so that I was pressed against his chest, his hips rubbing into mine. His desire was immediate and _desperate_. The only coherent thought I could muster was how much it must hurt to be trapped in those leggings. But then his hands were grabbing my hips and walking me backwards, even as his lips moved on mine restlessly. His tongue was doing things to me that had my knees faltering. No—no I wanted to be in control of this situation. I wanted to make him never want to leave me again.

The moment that I felt the furs behind me, I broke the kiss, our mouths making a small wet sound. His breathing was erratic, and one of his hands was firmly gripping my bottom, squeezing it and relaxing over and over.

“Get on the bed,” I said, my voice little more than a husky breath. “And take your pants off.” Thankfully, he was already shirtless. His eyebrows quirked, I thought, and his palms slid up my back, then around my rib cage to cup my breasts through my shirt. His thumbs sought out my nipples with surprising accuracy. They circled the tight nubs, making them ache and pulsate. I wanted to feel his mouth on them, pulling them, his tongue whorling them slowly. I bit my lip to give me strength, and stepped to the side.

“On the bed. Pants off. On your back. Now.”

His cheeks moved, and I could tell he was smiling. He wouldn’t be shortly—not if I had my way. He’d be too busy grabbing the sheets and moaning my name. Before my thoughts could run wild, he hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his trousers and slid them off of his hips. Slowly, taking his time and observing me, he lowered himself onto his furs. His erection was long—perhaps three-quarters the length of my forearm, and by the Dread Wolf, was he thick. His arousal must have felt my stare because it twitched appreciatively. I licked my lips. I was looking forward to this.

Painstakingly, I made him watch me strip. First, I lifted my shirt up and over my head, tossing it against the far way. My breasts hung free and heavy, flushed with desire and so very excited. He made a small noise in the back of his throat, and I could see exactly where he was looking. I ran my fingertips over the very peak of my nipples, tweaked them and saw his erection jerk in response. I felt _powerful_. Grinning, I turned around and began to shimmy out of pants. I rolled them over my bottom, exposing myself to him, my heart beat skipping at his sudden intake of breath. Once they were off, I turned to face him. He was propped up on his elbows, his gaze raking me up and down from head to toe.

“I want to tie you down,” I said, taking one small step towards him. “I want to tie you down and have you helpless beneath me. I want you to be unable to do anything but watch as I take you into my mouth and make you forget about everything but the way it feels to be held inside me.”

He let out a small gasp of air that I didn’t think he’d been aware he was holding. He nodded and the rope appeared beside him. He had to swallow and clear his throat before he could speak. “Do you remember the knots I showed you?”

“Yes. Do you remember our safe words?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he said, the word full of so much heat and yearning that it left me with little doubt that he remembered _everything_. I slid onto the pile of furs, one knee going on either side of his legs, but did not touch him—not yet. I saw his throat work, and smiled to myself as I bound his hands above his head. The position wasn’t the best, but he said it felt fine when I asked. I kissed him, using my teeth to tug on his lower lip as I ran my fingers so very delicately down his chest. His breathing hitched and I smiled, pulling back.

“Next time, let’s use a real bed,” I murmured, watching him nod wordlessly in reply. I planted open-mouthed kiss after kiss down his throat, pausing here to suck, stopping there to bite and tease. By the time I was down to his navel, he was moving, his hips bucking and rocking, meeting nothing but pure air. I let my tongue delve into the little indentations of his stomach, then proceeded to kiss my way lower. When I reached the loose curls that nestled around his arousal, I stopped, looking up at him. Every muscle in his body was strained, tight, tense, _ready_. I grinned and he cursed as I let my breath wash over him. His hips jerked in reply, pushing up, and I laughed, feeling the joy of the moment.

“ _Da’falon_ ,” he said, his voice pleading with me.

I held his gaze, pressing myself flat against his legs to give me the best angle for what I wanted. I leaned in close, and planted the lightest of butterfly kisses up his shaft. The heat from his arousal burned my lips, and made me hungry for more. The second my mouth touched him, a bead of liquid emerged from his tip. I caught it with my finger, then slowly put the digit into my mouth, sucking it clean. He groaned aloud, and another bead rolled down. This one I caught directly, traced it back to its source, pausing to use the tip of my tongue to delve into the crease of his frenulum, savoring his gasp and the way he jerked against his restraints, before I took his head fully into my mouth. I let out a soft sigh of relief—it felt good to hold him inside me again.

His breathing was harsh, and for a moment I thought about releasing him to ask if he was okay—but glancing up at him as I sucked, gently at first, then with growing pressure—I knew he was fine. His head was lolled back, and when he felt my gaze, he opened his eyes and stared at me as I lowered my lips down the sides of his erection. My tongue moved along his shaft, flat and curling around him, as I took him as deep as I could go. I gave him one strong pull, then gripped his base with one of my hands, squeezing and pulsing rhythmically, and began to bob my head up and down on him, sucking and pulling and pushing him closer to orgasm. His hips bucked against me and he was cursing, his muscles straining. I used my free hand to hold him down, used my weight on his legs to keep him pinned beneath me as I tried to drink him up completely, my head moving up and down, my lips never breaking the seal.

“ _Da’falon_ ,” he groaned, jerking so hard on the ropes binding his arms that I thought he might break them. “ _Da’falon_ , I will not last—I’m going to—to—”

I pushed down as far as I could, taking him in deep as I sucked hard, squeezing him gently but firmly at the base. My free hand cupped his scrotum and I ran my thumb so gently over the delicate skin there. One more suck, my tongue moving up and down his length as best it could—and then he was coming. He tasted spicy, savory, and slightly of pine. My throat worked, swallowing as I sucked until he was finished, then released him, my lips making a suction noise as I straightened myself. He had collapsed completely on the furs, panting heavily, his chest glistening with sweat. I rubbed my jaw, soothing the small ache there with a pinch of healing magic. I slid up the length of his body, caught one of the pearls of sweat with my mouth, and savored the taste of salt on his skin. His muscles jumped beneath my gentle touch, and his breathing halted for a moment. I looked up at him.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his eyes bright but unfocused.

“Hmmm,” I replied, pressing my body against his. I slid up him, feeling his groin beginning to stir again. Perhaps there were benefits to loving a god beyond the fact that he was _wonderful_. I bit the side of his throat, nipped it, then swirled my tongue over the small mark I had left behind. “I want you to do something for me, _vhenan_.”

“I would agree to very nearly anything at present,” he said, voice low and gravelly from exertion or strain. It made my heart flutter and my thighs tremble. Gods, I wanted to feel him inside of me. I gripped one of the pillows beside him to ground myself.

“I want you to use that sinfully attractive mouth of yours,” I said, pausing to kiss him long and slow, then whispered against his lips, “—and I want you to make me come so hard that I can’t see straight. And I want you to do it bound as you are.”

His eyebrows were raised in interest, and that mouth of his quirked in a smile. “That may be difficult, given our current positions.”

I pushed him back down onto the furs behind him, his body somewhat propped up by the myriad pillows. I planted one leg over his shoulder, and the other one braced beside him. I could feel his breath on the wetness between my thighs and it was so very difficult to think. “This better?”

He planted a kiss on me. “Much,” he said, and then kissed me again. His mouth opened, and I felt his tongue, hot and wet and _strong_ , move my lips. He ran the gluttonous thing up my inner labia, lapping up the evidence of my arousal and making a low, pleased noise somewhere in his throat. His tongue flicked past my clit, and I almost cursed in frustration. I held it back, gripping one of the pillows all the more tightly and setting my jaw.

He chuckled, sensing my need, and his tongue traced the edges of it, its circumference, and my arms nearly gave out. My hips bucked in response, unbidden, and I ran my fingers through his hair with my left hand, guiding him closer to me. He laughed again, but this time used his lips to wrap around the tiny bud, lightly sucking it. I cried out at the feel as he pulled it fully into his mouth, continuing to suck on it wetly, even as his tongue flicked over it, back and forth, back and forth, establishing a rhythm. I wanted to grind into him, and it took every single ounce of self-control that I possessed to keep from pushing my hips further against his mouth.

He was so hot and wet—his tongue was swirling it now, and it was so sensitive, I was close to screaming—to crying out and telling him it was all too much. But it _wasn’t_. I released his hair in favor of grabbing one of my breasts and squeezing it and pinching my nipple even as I pressed into him. His teeth just barely grazed me, then his tongue was working to ease that small ache and the pressure was building up. All the muscles in my body tensed and my spine arched as the orgasm rolled through me. I screamed his name, my hand abandoning my breast in favor of his hair once more so I could hold him to me.

“Don’t stop!” I begged, the orgasm shaking me as wave upon wave of pleasure pulsated outwards, centered in my clit. “Please don’t stop! _Bora_!” He didn’t stop, but kept on sucking and swirling my clit until I was hunched over him, my body shaking. When it finally ceased, when the orgasm stopped throbbing, I rolled off of him, collapsing beside him, gasping. I shook, making small noises of contentment and pleasure and weakness as I lay there, unable to move. Fen’Harel stirred beside me, and the ropes were suddenly gone. He ran his fingers across my arms, making me shiver and my nipples grow hard again. I blinked up at him, trying to think—to see straight.

“You…you got rid of your bindings.”

“Were we not finished with them? Or would you prefer me still bound and at your pleasure?”

“No,” I replied, trying to scoot closer to him. “Hold me.”

He did so without hesitation. He pulled me up against his chest, reclined as he was against his cushions, and wrapped his arms fully around me. His erection pressed against my hip, and the slickness between my thighs stained his leg. His arousal…was so very, very fascinating. I had never come harder in my life, and yet, feeling him pressed against me as he was, I wanted him inside me. I didn’t have the strength to ride him—but I wanted him hard and fast and _now_.

“ _Vhenan_ ,” I said, looking up at him with adoration filling my eyes, “I want you. Please.”

He cocked his head, his fingers working to relieve the knots of stress in my back. “Are you certain you are ready? You do not need time to recover, _da’falon_?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I need you. Now. Hard. I need to feel you so deep inside of me. _Please_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” he whispered, his voice hoarse again. He flipped me onto my stomach with no warning, then forced me onto my knees, fingers biting into my hips. “Is this what you want?” he asked, _demanded_ , pushing the head of his arousal against my vulva. He slid himself between my thighs, and the heat of him scorched me.

“ _By the Dread Wolf_ , yes!” I nearly screamed it at him.

He used his knee to spread my legs, and I had to support myself on my forearms to keep from collapsing. Then he was hunching over me, blanketing my back with his body as his throbbing erection pushed its way inside of me. I was so wet from my orgasm minutes prior that there was no time wasted trying to work himself inside me—I was dripping and open and wanton. His hips slapped into my bottom and I cried out at the feel of him filling me. This angle…he was able to go deep. He began a steady, shallow thrusting. One of his arms reached down beside my head to support himself, and the other wrapped around my waist, holding me in position as he pulled out and forged in. I wiggled backwards, urging him to pick up his pace by squeezing him hard as he tried to withdraw from me. He gasped, his weight on me increasing.

And then it began. He abandoned the steady, slow thrusts in favor of plunging in and out of me, no rhythm or pace set to guide him as he humped. I cried out, burying my face into a pillow as my breasts bounced up and down, swinging free with each and every jolt from his hips crashing into me. His breath was hot on my neck, and the hand that had been supporting him moved in preference of grabbing my right breast and clutching it tightly. He gripped my nipple between two fingers, rolled it and tugged on it as his erection jerked and twitched inside me, pulsating as I clenched around him.

He cursed and suddenly the arm that was around my waist was sliding down further. His fingers found my clit again, his thumb seeking it and beginning to whirl over it again and again as he pounded into me, our bodies slapping together wet and noisily, even as our moans caught in the furs and pillows surrounding us. I couldn’t take it—I couldn’t handle the pleasure coursing through me as he hit the right spot over and over inside me, stimulating my clitoral tissue, my clit and my breast all at once. Feeling his breath on my skin, hearing his grunts and pants and curses whispered into my ear—my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the furs, but he followed me down, his hips not taking a moment to recover. This angle, his thumb on the nub between my labia was so much _more_ , and the hand on my breast dug in, then rolled my nipple against the fur. His erection was hot and thick and fast, so _fast_ , and I felt my groin tighten, the pull from inside as my body built to orgasm. And then it was rolling through me, my clit pulsating and throbbing and I was grinding back into him, hips undulating in desire and pleasure. I screamed, the sound muffled by a pillow.

He gasped, buried himself as far in me as he could and then came with a force that had me jolting. His thumb did not stop, and his fingers kept pulling on my breast, even as his mouth clamped down on my shoulder and he bit me, stifling his moans and groans. It wasn’t until the twitching of my sex stopped that he moved his hands from me, drawing out my orgasm as long as possible. He rolled off of me and suddenly I could breathe again. I took in one deep lungful and tried to turn towards him, only to collapse back onto the furs. He chuckled shakily and pulled me up onto his chest. His fingers massaged into the clefts on my bottom, and he brushed a kiss against my temple.

“I’ve _missed_ that,” I said, still breathless, my voice little more than a throaty purr.

“ _Yes_ ,” was all he said in reply.

He held me that way for hours it seemed, neither of us speaking, only touching. We could not stop running our hands over the other’s arms, tangling our legs together, and leaving trails of kisses along collar bones and up necks.

Waking the next morning had never been so difficult. It was mitigated only by the fact that Solas was still holding my hand as dawn swept over camp, rousing us. When Solas saw that I had woken, he smiled at me, squeezed my hand so tenderly, and then pulled away to get ready for the day. I watched him go, feeling nothing but contentment. My body…well, I was more relaxed than I had been in weeks. With the lightest of sighs, I rolled out of bed and got ready for our journey.

The trip back to Haven took a little over a week. I didn’t mind though because every night, Fen’Harel was there to greet me in the Fade. We made up for lost time rather _ardently_. Well, the trip back wouldn’t have been so bad except for the fact that I got my moon’s blood, and had to get help from Cassandra as to how deal with the situation. It was awkward, but on the other hand, it got her to start treating me like a person again, not something…awe-worthy. Nothing like helping a friend as her uterus emptied itself to re-inforce the idea of mortality and the mundane.

When we finally reached Haven, it was well past sunset. Solas walked me to my cabin, making sure all was well, before allowing me to sleep. He had been acting…well, strangely I supposed, as I stripped and prepared for bed. Fen had already burrowed under the covers and was snoring softly. I smiled, watching her, and fiddled with the jawbone necklace still around my throat. Soon the two of us wouldn’t be able to fit on the bed together. My mind drifted back to our elven apostate, and I worried my lower lip. He had been much less talkative to me lately, focusing more on the journey than on me. And yet…he had been touching me much more often. Little things, almost unnoticeable at first. A brush of fingers on my shoulder; the squeeze of his hand in passing. He sat close during meals, his knee barely skimming mine. And as we slept, he would hold my hand.

I curled into bed beside Fen, pulling her close. She nuzzled into me, snorting at me, but returning quickly to sleep. My arm glowed softly blue and green in the darkness, and I wondered what Fen’Harel would say about it. I really should have asked him before…

My thoughts had trailed off. I found myself sitting in my cabin by the fire, in someone else’s lap. Fen’Harel’s arms slid around my waist, and his chin rested on my shoulder. He inhaled my scent, sending tingles across my skin.

“You know what’s odd?” I asked him.

“Mmm?” he replied, planting a kiss on my pulse.

My eyes closed, and it was suddenly rather difficult to think. “You’re always near. Are you in the Fade bodily? Or are you…are you in Thedas? Do you know where I’m going? How are you always so close?”

“One of the many benefits of my people is that travel in the Fade is significantly easier than it is for others,” he murmured against my skin.

I half-turned, wanting to look him in the eye—as difficult as that was with the shadow cast over his face. It was easier sometimes; there were points where I could make out the whites of his eyes, when the light shone just right. “Your people? Elves? Ancient Elvhen?”

“No,” he said, his hands running up my waist to stop beneath my breasts, his palms enjoying their weight. “I am not Elvhen. We are closely related, yes, but, for instance, no union between one of my kind and the elvhen would ever produce a child.”

“A separate species!” I exclaimed, excited to learn. “But…” my excitement quickly dimmed as realization dawned on me. “But does that mean you’ve never had a family? Where…where did you come from?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his lips still working on my throat. “I simply was, am, and will be.”

I closed my eyes again, enjoying the sensation of his skin on mine. “So I absorbed some of the Blight—and now my arm won’t stop glowing blue. When it first happened, I created a bunch of wisps. Do you know what’s going on?”

“More than just then,” he said, finally pulling back. “You’ve been creating wisps every night we’ve been together. I simply…extract them from our presence upon their formation. I do so hate to be interrupted when my focus is otherwise occupied.” The glint in his gaze as he looked at me was hungry. My body responded accordingly, and I could feel my temperature rising.

“Do you think it will stop?”

“No,” he said, running his fingers through my hair and pulling my mouth down to his. “I do not.”

That was all the speaking we did that night.

 

**~**

 

The next morning, I woke knowing that my advisors were going to be…displeased with me. I took my time unpacking. I fingered the material of the garment I had bought in Val Royeaux, sighed, and headed out, Fen yawning beside me. No one dared approach me when my wolf was at my side, which was fine by me; the stares unnerved me enough. I did not want people coming up to me and asking for a blessing or any of that nonsense. I put my head on one of her ears, rubbing it gently, mostly to calm myself. The air was bracing and helped to clear my mind and keep me focused, not thinking about last night and how my lover had taken me against the door, then on the floor by the fire, and finally again on the bed, bedding ending scattered across the room. Fen yipped softly, drawing me out of my thoughts. I cleared my throat and thanked her as we approached our destination.

I entered the Chantry mid-conversation it seemed. Cullen and Josephine were standing in front of Cass, Leliana off to the side. Of course, Cullen was concerned about the mages.

“It is not a matter for debate. There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared!”

Josephine bristled. “If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst.”

Cullen saw me and his lip curled. “What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open!”

“And they are our best bet to seal it,” I replied calmly. “We are not monsters, Cullen. I know your experience colors your ideas about us—but I promise you, we do not succumb lightly to demonic temptation or possession.”

“This is not an issue of self-control!” he snapped. “Even the strongest mages can be overcome by demons in conditions like these!”

“Oh?” I asked, tilting my head. “Based on what? Have I not destroyed every demon that I have faced? These other mages are no less strong than I, or Lyrianna.”

He looked as if he had been slapped by my words—which was _not_ my intention. He swallowed and turned to Cassandra. “You were there, Seeker! Why didn’t you intervene?”

“While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it.” She looked from the Commander to Josephine. “The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the mages’ aid, and that was accomplished.” She sighed and ran a hand across her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Closing the Breach is all that matters.”

“I will not allow that potential future to come to pass. We must not fail,” I said sternly.

“We will not,” Cassandra said, a small smile curving her lips. I returned the gesture, my heart skipping a beat. I was so glad she still saw me as _me_.

“We should look into the things you saw in this ‘dark future.’ The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?” Leliana shook her head from the side of our cluster. “Perhaps Tevinter?”

“One battle at a time,” Cullen said, his anger seeming to have dissipated. He seemed a touch distracted, and I thought it might have something to do with the red-haired mage who seemed to have entranced him. “It’s going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let’s take this to the war room.” He turned to me, smiling ever so slightly. “Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all.” He paused suddenly, looking at my arm. “Was it always blue and green?”

“Ah… no. This happened when we returned from the future,” I said, skirting the issue.

“We are not entirely sure why,” Cassandra added, shooting me a look. I nodded at her, only slightly, appreciating her support and cover.

“Let’s go. I’m not sure what good the mark will do in decision-making, but what do I know?”

“I meant _you_ ,” Cullen said. “ _You_ make this all possible.”

I smiled at him, shrugging. “I don’t know about that but you’re right—let’s go to the War Room. These problems won’t solve themselves.”

“What is it they say?” he asked himself. “No rest for the wicked?”

I laughed, shaking my head as I followed my friends and advisors into the War Room at the far end of the hall.

“I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.”

“There’s an old path,” I said, thanking Leliana as she held the door for me, “a meditative walking path—or something—that leads out the back. Can we get ahold of Roderick? He will know it. We are going to need it.”

“Oh?” Josephine said, tilting her head.

“Just a feeling.”

 

**~**

 

It was going to take a day or two to organize the assault on the Breach. In the meantime, I was able to actually relax. I stayed in bed until noon the following day, only getting up to let Fen go hunt and replenish our water supply. I read a little, catching up on Duke Calloway’s escapades, but found it hard to keep my focus. Eventually I gave up and pulled out the dress I had purchased. I sighed, enjoying the feeling of the fabric—soft, but heavy in the bust, light in the skirts. It was too cold to wear it outside, but my cabin was warm from the fire. Wondering if it fit, I stripped and pulled it on. It was a little loose in the bodice, but otherwise, the fit was perfect and it was nearly a precise match. The lace across the chest was slightly different, but it fell in just the same way and was the exact same color. I wished I had a full-length mirror.

I was busy twirling, enjoying the swish of the skirts when there came a knock at my door. “Come in!” I chimed, glancing at Fen as her ears perked up and she sat up from her spot on the bed.

“ _Lethallan_ ,” the familiar voice said, and Solas stepped inside. “I was wondering if—” He froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening just a fraction and his mouth snapping shut. He inhaled sharply, watching my closely. I glanced at him, my head tilted in confusion.

“Is something wrong, _lethallan_?” I asked.

“No, I…” he cleared his throat, his eyes sliding back up to my own to meet my gaze. “You simply look lovely in that dress.”

His voice was a touch deeper than usual. I hoped he wasn’t coming down with something, but I couldn’t restrain my smile at the compliment. “You think so?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, gaze once more dropping to the dress. He took a few steps towards me, reached out and gingerly fingered the gossamer skirts. “In fact,” he murmured, his voice dropping as his gaze flicked to mine, suddenly smoldering, “there is only one thing I would rather see you in.”

“What’s that?” I asked, breathless and suddenly a little dizzy. My heart was slamming against my ribs and it was all I could do not to kiss him or faint.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I don’t understa—”

“Herald?” Cullen walked in, looking at a report. I hadn’t realized the door was still open. I expected Solas to move, and quickly—to step back and put distance between us as if the moment was as ephemeral as a wish. He did not. He kept his back to Cullen and his fingers continued playing with my skirts. Cullen looked up and nearly dropped his paperwork. He turned a shade of pink. “I—I apologize for the interruption. I had no idea you had company. I—I’ll leave you.”

“Wait!” I said, my hand going to hold Solas’, chaining him to my side in case he got the idea that I wanted him to go. “Is this about the mages?”

“Yes—they should be ready to make a stand against the Breach tomorrow at noon.”

“Thank you, Commander. Was there anything else?”

He couldn’t look at me. He shifted nervously on his feet, looking at Fen as she lounged on the bed. “Just…be certain you are prepared for the assault. We cannot know how you will be affected.”

I smiled at that. It was rather novel to have so many people suddenly care about my wellbeing. “Thank you, Cullen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Our Commander looked so relieved that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. He gave a sort of bow and exited as quickly as he could. I looked back to Solas, my fingers still holding his own. “I’m glad you like the dress.”

“Yes,” he said, releasing his hold on me and pulling out of my grasp. “But I should let you rest. You cannot afford a distraction at this important juncture. It was thoughtless of me to interrupt you. I only meant to inquire as to whether or not you had eaten.”

“No,” I said, my heart sinking somewhere down into my stomach. I was so completely crestfallen. I had thought…but no. I was reading too much into things, yet again. “I will, though. Thank you for thinking of me, Solas.”

“Always.” He spoke the word as if it were a promise, inclined his head and left the cabin. I watched him go, sighing heavily. Fen made a soft noise, and I looked at her.

“I know. I hate seeing him leave, too.”

That night, knowing it might be my last—who knew what would happen involving the mark when I closed the Breach—I ate dinner with Varric, Iron Bull and Krem. Dorian stopped by for a moment, but was so harassed by Bull that he declared he would be dining alone in his quarters. Bull watched him go, and I wondered if there was some chemistry there.

But then Varric was launching into a tale about how much Hawke drank in a contest against a noble dwarf and a tal-vashoth. Krem was laughing, but Bull snorted in disbelief.

“No way a _human_ out drank a Qunari—even a bloody tal-vashoth.”

“Hawke’s had more practice than most humans,” Varric said with a grin. “Had to with the company we keep— _kept_ ,” he corrected.

“You’ll see them soon,” I promised him. “Once we march tomorrow, hopefully this will all be over and you can go back to Kirkwall.”

“Even if I do, Hawke can’t go back. Not after what happened.”

I frowned, rubbing the back of my neck. “I guess that’s so. Well—what about here? I know it’s different, but Hawke’s from Ferelden, right? Maybe you could all move here. I certainly wouldn’t mind the company.”

Varric smiled at me, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Blossom, you’ve got a good heart. It would never work, but it’s a nice thought. Anyway,” he stood, cracking his back. “I’m gonna turn in. Gotta get some rest for the big day tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding?” I demanded, looking at him wide-eyed. “No. You are not getting near the Breach. Nor are you, Bull—Krem. None of you. I’m already upset that Solas and Cassandra are insisting on coming, but I’m not going to risk you all too if something were to go _wrong_.”

Varric stood still, staring at me. “And who’s going to look out for _you_ if something really does go wrong?”

“I’m taking a flotilla of mages,” I said, frowning. I kept talking even as Bull tried to correct my understanding of a ‘flotilla.’ “I need to not be worrying about you. Besides, I need you to be here to look after the few left at Haven if something goes amiss.”

“I don’t like how you _keep_ leaving me behind, Blossom.”

“Varric,” I pleaded, taking his hand. “You’re the first friend I made here, and you may be the only one who genuinely cares about me. I promise, I won’t leave you behind ever again if I can help it.”

He stared at me steadily, then finally sighed and nodded. “Alright, alright. I’ll stick around here, see what I can do. But you better come back in one piece, Sun-Blossom.” He gave my hand the smallest squeeze and then turned to head to his quarters. Bull and Krem, perhaps feeling uncomfortable at such a display of emotion they did not share, excused themselves soon after. I finished my food and went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

 

**~**

 

Fen’Harel was waiting for me the second I fell asleep. I didn’t even have a moment to take in my surroundings—his mouth was on mine, and his hands were tugging me close, molding to the curves of my body. I couldn’t help but to respond to the passion—the desperation—in him. We landed on a bed, and our clothes were already gone. I laughed against his tongue, enthralled and excited by his eagerness. He growled into me, and his hands were spreading my legs so he could fit between them. His erection brushed my thigh and I gasped, grabbing his hair.

He broke the kiss to whisper hoarsely into my ear. “Are you wet for me?” The pads of his fingers skirted across the tangle of curls nestled below my navel. My breathing hitched.

“ _Always_ ,” I said, spreading my legs further. His lips brushed mine, and then his teeth nipped me. One of his hands held the weight of my right breast, squeezing it so very slowly.

“Good,” was all he said before his mouth closed over my nipple. His tongue swirled and he sucked, and I couldn’t stop my hips from bucking, nor my legs from wrapping around him.

“Solas!” I cried, arching back. He made a small noise, bit down on my breast and was suddenly plunging into me. I was aroused, but it was still a little tight—I didn’t mind. If anything, the way he had to take his time pushing in added a new dimension of pleasure, of sensation. My arms snaked around him, my fingers digging into the muscles of his back. He inhaled sharply around my breast, then sucked fiercely. I keened, dragging my nails down his skin as he began to pull back, my body fighting to hold him inside me. I clenched around him and one of his arms forced its way under my hips, angling me up just slightly and drawing me closer simultaneously.

“By the Dread Wolf,” I said, breathless as he once again began driving into me, slow, hard and long. I could have sworn he laughed, but the position he was in made it difficult to say for sure. His teeth were going to leave marks on my breast, but I did not care. It felt so good and I felt so very _alive_. It may have been wrong, but all I could think of were Solas’ eyes as he had looked at me when I was wearing that dress. But then Fen’Harel groaned as I contracted around him, and he had my full attention, the sound of his voraciousness making me wet all over again. I whispered his name, and then his mouth released my chest and was on mine, cutting me short. Our tongues danced, moving in time with our hips as our bodies fought harder and harder to join, to become _one_. The force of his thrusts had me pressed down deep into the mattress, making it somewhat difficult to raise my waist, to move with him, but not impossible.

The elven deity used his free hand to slide between our bodies. His thumb found my clit and he began to massage it, so gently—barely touching it—and it drove me mad. I squirmed in earnest, arching wildly and out of rhythm, trying to get him to speed up—to touch me harder. He must have sensed the desperation, the need, in me because he obliged my desires. He rolled my little nub between two fingers and suddenly my muscles were tightening, driving me up towards ecstasy. He broke the kiss to curse as my nails dug into his back, and I was able to bite down on his shoulder, muffling a wail as my orgasm shook me out of nowhere.

With a noise that bordered on growl, he switched positions, throwing one of my legs over his shoulder and holding the other down. He drove into me so much more deeply, hitting just the right spot so my orgasm, just as it was beginning to ebb, shook me again. I screamed, my body arching, my hands clawing at him. He kept going, every thrust punctuated by a harsh grunt or moan. My climax was just finally rolling into little shivers of pleasure when he, panting in my ear, shoved himself as deep as he could inside of me and came in jerking spurts.

My lover collapsed on top of me, his body covered with sweat. I held him, feeling him shake in my arms. At first, I thought it was from exhaustion but I quickly realized that was not the case.

“Fen’Harel…?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair. “ _Vhenan_ , what’s wrong?”

He looked up at me, his gaze dry but serious, intense. “I know what you must do tomorrow. The amount of energy that it will require to close the tear in the Veil,” he paused, and shook his head. “You do not deserve to have this burden thrust upon you. I should have been the one with this responsibility. The consequences should be _mine_ , not yours.”

I cupped his face, frowning. “Stop it. Don’t blame yourself for something so completely out of your control. Mythal chose me and put me in that situation. Not you. And she did it for a reason, even if we don’t understand. I trust her, _vhenan_. I have to have faith in her and myself now. Don’t you believe in me?”

He grabbed one of my hands and turned his face to kiss my palm. His lips were hot against my skin. “I believe in you more than I believe in anything.”

My stomach muscles clenched, and my heart ached. I guided his face to mine and gently kissed him. “Then know that I will not let anything happen to harm you, or this world. I will protect it. I will protect it from all harm, _vhenan_.”

“I know.” His voice was heavy with emotion. “I know you will.”

 

**~**

 

I woke at dawn and had plenty of time to prepare for the assault on the Breach. We left just as the sun was approaching its zenith. The march was not a long one, despite our numbers. The closer we got to the tear in the heavens, the darker the sky grew until it seemed to be night. My hand throbbed, the green light glowing bright and hot, and overpowering the blue light until it was almost impossible to see. The mages were behind me, and Cass and Solas were by my side. My two friends turned and addressed the masses above us.

“Mages!” Cassandra called, rallying their attention as Solas strode towards them. As our paths crossed, his hand touched mine and he hooked his pinky through my own, giving me the briefest of squeezes. Then he moved past me, drawing his staff above his head.

“Focus past Fen!” he called. “Let her will draw from you!”

As I drew nearer the Breach, its energy shot out in an arc of green lightning, striking me. I gasped, feeling power flood my body, and one of my knees gave out. I caught myself, but knew this was not going to be a pleasant experience. I could feel the air change the moment the mages dropped to their knees, their focus channeling into the Breach. It was like electricity coursing through my veins, not blood. My eyes were engulfed in light, and the tear above me was all I could see. Except no…that wasn’t right. I could see beyond it. The harder I stared, the more I could see just how _open_ this fissure in the sky was. The Fade waited beyond it—and I could have reached out to touch it. In that moment, if I had chosen, I could have ripped the sky open wide. The energy was pulsing in my heart, filling my mind. It swam through me, seeking an escape. My hand was on _fire_.

I thrust my palm towards the sky, nearly screaming as the mark burned to life, shooting a wave of raw power out of me and up at the sky. It was a stream of light that split into three channels, swirling and shimmering with lightning. I shot the power up and into the sky, drew the tear together with my mind, and just before it exploded, I stared deep into the Fade, pulling it down to me and I thought the word, _‘heal_ ,’ and suddenly the light pouring out of me was spiked with blue. My arm felt like it was going to be pulled from its socket. The blue spread through the green, staining it. I let out a scream as my feet lifted off the ground, my hand pulling me up. Then energy blasted out of me like the crash of a tidal wave, like a volcano spewing forth its lava in rage, and I was falling.

I landed on my knees with a groan, my entire body shaking. I could not move for fear that I would fall over. I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Twice. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Cass was the first one up, but Solas was the first one to reach me. He knelt beside me, one hand on my back, the other cupping my chin and making me look up.

“How do you feel? Are you well?”

I nodded, tried to speak, couldn’t, and had to clear my throat. I tried again more successfully. “I’m okay. Did I…” I looked up. The sky above, still marked by cloud, was no longer torn—no longer ripped in two. I smiled, relief flooding me. “Oh, thank the Dread Wolf.”

“Thank _you_ ,” he said, not letting go of me. His eyes searched my own, and then he was looking me over. “Are you certain you are well? You feel no ill effects?”

“Solas,” I said with a smile. “I’m okay. I may just need a little help standing.”

“Herald,” Cassandra said from behind me. I glanced back at her, watching her look out past me. “You did more than seal the Breach.”

My stomach dropped. Oh, _gods_ , what had I done now? “Wh-what?” I followed her gaze and my breathing hitched. The skewers of red lyrium that had jutted from the ground were now shattered, and the taint that had marred them was…gone. They glowed with a soft bluish-white light.

Solas helped me to my feet and, one of his arms around my waist, I turned back to the Seeker. “I didn’t…I mean, there was so much energy from the blast. It may have been the mark.”

The apostate supporting me nodded once. “I agree. We are yet unaware of the full capacities of the mark that Fen has received. It quite possibly could simply be a side effect of healing the Breach.”

Cassandra nodded slowly. “That is what I will tell the others, then. They will wonder at the transformation; it will need to be addressed, and it is less suspicious if we do so without being prompted.”

Relief made me sag slightly against Solas. “Thank you, Cass,” I said softly.

She inclined her head, turned, and ordered the mages to march back to Haven. As soon as the others were out of earshot, Solas said to me, “It was not the mark.”

“I know,” I replied, looking down at the blue glow emanating from my forearm. “Believe me, I know.”

 

**~**

 

That evening, even as the mages and soldiers and recruits celebrated soberly, no one group trusting the others enough to commit to full revelry, I could not relax. Fen, who had waited patiently with Varric while we stormed the Breach, was by my side as I stood out in front of the Chantry, watching the sky above me. I was oddly glad that it was quiet. I felt…uneasy. Something was going to happen. The less people here, the better. I heard someone approach. Fen perked, looking behind me and her tail wagged once. Cassandra came to stand beside me.

“Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed.” She looked down at Fen and smiled slightly before continuing. “We’ve reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory.” She turned to face me, her arms behind her back in attention. “Word of your heroism has spread.”

“ _My_ heroism?” I shook my head, flabbergasted. “Cass—this wasn’t something _I_ did. I just happened to be there. Everyone else…you’re all the ones who did things. You’re the one who organized this whole movement.”

She breathed deeply, watching me closely before she looked forward. “I do not know if I would have the same strength you have shown, given your position. However, you’re right. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory. With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus.”

We were drawn out of our conversation by the sound of running feet, many. Cullen’s voice carried from across a distance. “Forces approaching! To arms!”

Panic spiked my heart rate. This was it. This was what I had been expecting. Cassandra was alarmed, turning abruptly. “What the…? We must get to the gates!”

Even as I nodded, Solas appeared, sprinting over to us. He stopped beside me, his gaze flicking over me to see if I was well. He then turned, nodding. “This bodes poorly. Come.”

As we ran, The Iron Bull and Dorian joined us. Dorian’s cheeks were flushed, but the two seemed otherwise sober.

“So,” Bull said casually as we ran, “…celebratory drinks are on hold.”

The five of us made it to the gates quickly, and Cullen and Leliana were already there. “What happened?” I demanded, skidding to a halt.

“One watchguard reporting. It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?” Josie asked, approaching from behind.

“None,” Cullen replied.

“None?” she said, the shock clear on her face.

Something slammed into the wooden doors barring the entrance. Again, someone tested them. And then, “I can’t come in unless you open!”

“Cole!” I exclaimed, darting to the doors and forcing them open. Solas was right beside me, and Cullen beside him. Lyrianna hung back a step, her golden eyes wide in surprise. I didn’t have time to wonder what she and the Commander had been up to—the doors gave way and there was a soldier standing, looking ready for battle, on the other side. He fell to his knees, revealing a slender young man with the largest hat I had ever seen masking his expression. He strode forward. “I’m Cole—but you, you know that. You don’t know how you know, but you do. I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you, but you knew that too.”

“Who, Cole?” I asked, trying to stay calm.

“The templars come to kill you.”

“Templars?” Cullen demanded, incredulous. “Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?”

“The red templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages.” The young man turned, pointing up one of the hills overlooking the valley. “There.”

On the crest was a man, ordinary in appearance, perhaps a touch haggard about the eyes, but otherwise hale. He wore red armor and carried a sword that gleamed in the growing twilight.

“I know that man…” Cullen said softly. “But this Elder One…”

Smoke, black and wraithlike, coalesced beside the warrior in red. It grew tall, twisted, and solidified to form a man—or maybe what once had been a man. Red lyrium grew from his flesh, and his body was twisted, fused to his armor. He towered over the warrior beside him, though his musculature was spindly—sickly. The Elder One stood tall and I could feel the burn of his gaze. My heart stopped in my chest, and I knew—I knew who this person was. Corypheus. The one who had begun it all. The one who had come for the mark.

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole said softly, almost gently.

My palms grew sweaty. Somehow, I had figured that out on my own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Bora_ : Present Continual Tense of the Elvhen to project/throw--meaning, as close as I can interpret, to "I'm coming"
> 
> Okay, so the smut was back with a vengeance in this. I'm sorry! I...I couldn't help myself! As always, I will edit this for more typos tomorrow. But it's 2 now, and I would like some sleep.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! ALSO! If you so like, leave me a comment about what gender/class you would like Hawke to be, since that part of our story is coming relatively soon.


	12. Winter

I could see men streaming down the mountains, torches held aloft. I turned to Cullen, my mind racing. I drew a blank. “Commander—what do you suggest?”

“As you yourself pointed out, Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!” He turned to our troops, drawing his blade. “Mages! You—you have sanction to engage them. That is Samson. He will not make it easy!” He spun, facing me. “Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!”

I looked at my companions. Everyone was grim and silent. I nodded, and just as I turned, I heard someone shout my name. I glanced back, my eyes seeking out who had called me. Varric jumped down the last few steps and ran up to me, grinning. “You didn’t think I’d let you leave me behind again, did you Blossom?”

I smiled at him, took his face in my hands and kissed him. “Thank you, Varric!” I laughed as he put a hand over his heart dramatically and pretended to swoon.

“ _Lethallan,_ we have no time for this.”

I nodded; Solas was right. We needed to run. So that’s what we did, my wolf at my side. We sprinted to the first trebuchet to help load and fire it. Of course, life was never so easy. We had just finished getting the thing aimed when the first wave of red-lyrium-infected templars found us. They reminded me of Fiona in the future—bodies twisted with red lyrium growths protruding from their flesh itself. It was sad to see, and terrifying to behold their eyes as they glowed red in that dark night. Though I hated to kill, I knew that if I became infected, I would want someone to end my existence. So I tried to see their murders as some sort of release.

We managed to keep the rogue templars off of our scouts long enough to get the trebuchet armed and fired. The other one still hadn’t gone off, so Fen, Solas, Bull, Dorian, Cass, Varric and I decided to let our soldiers hold down this trebuchet while we inspected the other.

It was as I feared—our soldiers were dead, and the machine was overrun with red templars. One of our scouts had actually been speared on a loading wagon. Rage and fire filled my blood, and the mark on my hand throbbed as it responded to the sudden flood of energy. One of the more monstrous templars, perhaps a rogue in its former life, its body now contorted and grey, lyrium growing from its spine, charged me. I shocked it with a bolt of arcane energy, then froze the thing as I sprinted up the steps of the trebuchet. I threw my weight into cranking it, tightening the chain. Thankfully, the soldiers who had died for this bloody machine had managed to load it before they were killed.

An enemy archer ran up the steps behind me as I was mid-crank, and Fen leapt from where she had been throttling another templar, and got the archer in the throat. I called out my thanks to her, and then to Solas and Dorian as they both simultaneously cast barriers over me, allowing me to continue my work. A bolt whizzed past me, hitting a warrior in the ball joint of his shoulder as he was scrambling up the other side of the platform where I stood.

“Thanks, Varric!” I gasped, spinning that damned wheel with everything I had.

“Don’t mention it, Blossom!” he called, reloading.

The templars came in waves, and before I was able to launch the thing, my party suffered some minor wounds. Solas was hit with a blast of what could have been shards of red lyrium; Varric was bleeding from his forehead, and looked like his nose had maybe broken; one of Cass’s arms was hanging a little limp; Dorian was the only one unscathed, and I attributed that to the fact that Bull let no one near the mage. The Qunari might have cracked jokes that Vints clearly didn’t know how to fight, and that mages were only good for making shit look pretty, yet he didn’t take his time to shield Solas bodily when the arrows came flying. Then there was Fen.

I had felt the moment my wolf companion was wounded, taking a blade to the ribcage. One of her ribs was fractured, but she had gone on to rip the arm off of the warrior who had struck the blow. My own rib ached, bruised almost as if I had suffered a sympathetic wound. I wondered if she felt my calf wound, where an arrow had nicked me. The waves of templars abated, and I saw Solas tending to Fen. The same way I had felt her injury, I felt when her wound was healed, leaving nothing but a dull ache. I used all my weight for the last crank, and finally the trebuchet launched its load at the mountain. It struck the snowbank, and a snowfall turned into an avalanche that came crashing down on the troops storming our keep.

“Why haven’t they fired the third trebuchet?” Dorian was asking, tending to Cassandra’s arm. I looked to the sky.

“Cullen is waiting. I told him about the dragon.”

“Dragon?” Bull exclaimed, grinning even as blood rushed from his split lip. “I knew this was a good idea, joining the Inquisition.”

We didn’t have time to talk after that. A dark shape, huge and monstrous, swept down from the starry sky above and launched a ball of fire at our trebuchet. The machine exploded into cinders, and the beast was bearing down upon us when the third trebuchet finally launched and clipped the dragon’s wing. It screamed, flapping wildly to compensate for the tear. We had all gone flying, or taken cover, and it took a moment to stand and recover.

“Oh, that’s just messed up!” Bull shouted, seeing the devastation so near.

“To the gates!” I ordered, downing a potion quickly to keep me from limping and lagging behind. Fen immediately came to my side, and we ran together back the way we had come. Harrit was one of the few who had not been evacuated, seeing as he had a practical purpose in aiding the Inquisition. He was trying to get into the cabin attached to the smithy, but it was blocked with fallen crates.

“Blasted shoulder!” he was yelling, kicking wildly at the boxes. “Herald! Help me with this door!”

“Bull?” I asked, looking at the large warrior. Iron Bull grinned, pulled out his mallet and wailed on the door until it shattered beneath his mighty blows.

“Good one!” Harrit exclaimed, pushing past Bull. “Just grabbing essentials! Won’t die for the forge!”

“Good! Get inside— _fast_.” I made sure Harrit had heard me, then we were running again.

Bodies—templars, scouts, soldiers and mages—all lined the snowy path up to the keep. I couldn’t help these people—but I would do better in the future. This level of massacre would _not_ happen again. I could hear Cullen calling out to us from up ahead, and it pulled me from the macabre of my thoughts.

“Come on! Through here!” When I glanced back at the party, urging them in first, I was relieved to see Harrit had caught up with us. “Move it; move it!” Cullen was shouting. Solas paused, waiting for myself and Fen, and then we were sprinting and the doors were closed behind us.

“We need everyone back to the Chantry!” Cullen ordered, storming past our group. “It’s the only building we’ve had time to reinforce that _might_ hold against…that beast!” He turned to face me once he had surmounted the stairs. “Thank the Maker we cleared out Haven at your advice. I can’t imagine the carnage…” He shook his head, turning away. “Move!”

“We have to check for wounded, just in case,” I said, running past the Commander and going to the right, towards the tavern. Flissa was long gone—and though we ran into a few templars, it was empty of soldiers or scouts or mages. Relief washed through me even as we battled the templars. I had been so afraid…

But then I remembered Adan and Minaeve. I sprinted towards the back, near where Solas’ cabin was. Fen was right beside me, and while I went to Minaeve, she grabbed Adan by the shoulder and dragged him out from the cart of burning pots.

“Help me! The fire will explode the pots!”

I helped Minaeve up, and the four of us limped away just in time. The pots went up in a flash and a bang. Solas and Cassandra were the first ones to reach us, and I pointed towards the Chantry.

“Help Threnn!”

The two nodded and took off.

“Thank the Maker you found us,” Minaeve said, her lilting voice strained.

“Thank the Maker when you make it out of here alive,” I retorted. Adan snorted his agreement, and I left the two of them once we reached the Chantry doors. Solas and Cass had saved Threnn, but were close to being overwhelmed by templars. Shaking, I called down four blasts of raw, arcane energy, stunning the lyrium-infected warriors. Then Bull and Dorian and Varric were running up from the opposite way I had come, and helped us finish them off. I looked at the rogue.

“Did you find anyone? Did we save all we could?”

Varric nodded, sliding Bianca back of his shoulder. “No one else to save, Blossom. Haven’s clear.”

“Good!” I said, then pointed. “Now go!”

They obeyed, all running for the sanctuary of the Chantry. I paused, debated for only a moment, then sprinted as fast as I could back to my cabin. I heard Fen barking in the distance, alarmed at my disappearance, but I was fast. I blasted my door down with a bolt of lightning, grabbed the dress and made it back to the Chantry. Cullen was there to greet us, and slammed the doors closed behind us. Roderick was there, wounded badly, and Cole, the young man who had appeared from seemingly nowhere, was helping him.

“He tried to stop a templar,” Cole said. “The blade went deep. He’s going to die.”

Roderick looked at Cole, then at the ground as he limped along. “What a charming boy.”

I was half-way towards Roderick, intending to do my best to heal him, when Cullen stopped me.

“Herald! Though we did our best to wound the beast, it was not enough. Our position is not good. That dragon stole back much of the time you had earned us.”

Cole gently lowered the cleric onto a chair, then squatted beside him. “I’ve seen an archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”

“I don’t care what it looks like,” Cullen snapped. “It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

Panic suddenly tightened my chest. I grabbed Cullen’s arm. “Where’s Lyrianna? Did she make it?”

Cullen’s eyes widened, but I could tell from his expression that she was not dead. “She did—she is in the back, healing those who have been wounded with Mother Giselle.” He paused, then, “it may mean nothing now, but thank you for thinking of her.”

I nodded, releasing him. “Good.”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village,” Cole cut in. “He only wants Fen.”

I looked at the young man, frowning. “No. He wants this,” I said, pointing at my hand.

“It started out that way,” Cole continued. “But not now. He’s seen you. He’s seen those who follow you and call you after the name of their god. You stole his mages. You stole his anchor. He wants _you_.”

Well…that was discomforting. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

Cole shook his head. “No. He’s too loud. It hurts to hear him.” He looked down at his hands. “He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them, kill them anyway. I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like…?” Cullen stared at the young man, then shook his head, turning back to me. “Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable.”

“There _are_. I told you—”

He cut me off. “The only thing we can do now is turn the remaining trebuchets and cause one last slide. We’re overrun. To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder. I could see her now, her red head bent over one of the other mages, healing energy flowing out of her as she worked. Cullen’s hands clenched. “We’re dying, but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice.”

Since he was not listening to me, too caught up in his own pain, I looked to Roderick just as Cole’s head was rising. The young man in the large hat nodded in earnest. “Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” I said fiercely. The mark on my hand throbbed.

“Do not waste your energy on me; the boy is right—I am dying. But there is a path that could save those who still have a chance. You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. As I have.” Roderick’s head began to dip down, overcome with pain from his wound. I took a step towards him. “The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could…tell you.”

“Roderick, please.” I dropped to my knees before him and took his hand. “Let me try.”

“There is no time. We must act swiftly if we are to…if the people here are to have any chance at all.” He looked me in my eyes, and I could see remorse there. “Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers…I don’t know, Herald. If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. _You_ could be more.”

I shook my head. He was right about one thing—I didn’t have time to heal him, not if I wanted to save all of our lives. I did have time, however, to give him some comfort. I sent some healing magic into him, the blue on my arm glowing bright and fierce as I willed him and the magic inside me to find peace and joy. He stared at me, his eyes growing wide. Perhaps it had worked. I stood and turned to our commander.

“Cullen—can you do it? Can you lead them out?”

“ _If_ he shows us the path. But what of your escape?”

I grinned at him, and feral joy at the thought of facing the one who had caused so much death warred inside me, fighting against my sorrow at seeing so many slain. “I have no intention of dying here, Commander.”

“Yes,” he said, though I could tell he didn’t believe. “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…”

“I’m not the Herald,” I said, clenching my marked hand into a fist, light pouring out from between my fingers, “but do not doubt in my abilities. I make a vow, now, to stop this ‘Elder One’ from destroying Thedas. I always keep my vows, Cullen.”

He nodded and turned without further preamble. “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!”

Cole stood, helping the Chancellor to his feet, then wrapped the wounded man’s arm around his neck. I put my hand on Roderick’s shoulder, making them pause. I looked the man in the eye. “If I can make it to you in time, I promise that I will do all in my power to help.”

His eyes filled with tears and he put a cold, clammy hand on top of mine. “You already have. Herald…if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.” His fingers limply gave mine a squeeze, and then they were moving, leaving. I stared after him, sad and uncomfortable. I was no Herald—why could they not see that?

A few of our soldiers moved past me, hurrying towards the main doors. Cullen approached me. “They’ll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree-line.”

“You’ll signal?” At his nod, I grabbed the arm of one of the soldiers. “You load them, and then you get out of there. Escape with the commander.”

He nodded and I released him. As I turned to follow, Cullen said, “If we are to have a chance—if _you_ are to have a chance—let that thing hear you.”

“We need to be noticed?” Dorian said, coming up to my side. “Happens to be a specialty of mine.”

“Dorian…” I took his hand, squeezing it. “You don’t have to come with me. I want you all to escape.”

Bull sauntered up, swinging his large mallet over his shoulder. He grinned. “We’re not letting you have all the fun, Boss.”

Solas, Varric and Cassandra approached, trailed by Sera and Vivienne and Blackwall. Blackwall marched right up to me. “I’m going with you whether you like it or not.”

My eyes watered. I had never felt so supported. I took his hands into my own—they were large, scarred and dry. I would see about getting him a healing salve. “Blackwall, I need you with the people. I need you to protect the mages and those under our care in case I don’t make it. I need you all there, with the people. I’ll take three of you with me—but the rest, I _need_ you with Cullen.”

“ _Lethallan_ —” Solas began, but I spun to face him, cutting him off.

“No. You’re not coming. I don’t have time to argue.”

“You need me—”

“I need to not be worried about you,” I countered. “Besides,” I said, pulling out the amulet of a wolf’s jawbone he had given me, “I’m taking a piece of you.”

“That will not protect you from the Elder One. If not for your own sake then, for mine. I shall worry otherwise—”

“Deal with it. I’ve taken you everywhere. I’m no more special to you than I am to Varric, so Varric is coming because it’s his damn turn—as is Bull, and Dorian. The rest of you, please take care of our people.”

Sera saluted. “Yes ma’am, your royal Heraldness.”

Vivienne inclined her head gracefully. “Of course, dear.”

As I was opening the doors and walking out into the night, I heard Solas behind me say, “If anything happens to the Herald, I will hold you all personally responsible. She’s the only hope Thedas has.”

“We get it, Chuckles. You’ve got a crush. Now go on and listen to Blossom.”

Solas made a sound that very much reminded me of Cassandra’s disgusted noise, and then I was too far outside to hear them, Fen at my side. She would never stay behind—that much I knew. All of the cabins were on fire. Again, I was hit by a wave of gratitude that we had nearly had all the civilians cleared out of Haven. As we passed by my burning room, I was thankful I had the dress stored at the bottom of my bag. It was silly, but it reminded me of Fen’Harel—and I didn’t want to lose that connection. We made it to the third trebuchet, and it was (of _course_ ) surrounded by red templars. Bull let out a yell and charged them. Varric, Dorian and I hung back, attacking from a distance.

Once the first wave had been defeated, I ran up to the giant machine and began to crank away, aiming it. The next wave of templars did not take long to reach us, and with them was a monstrosity the likes of which I had never seen. It was a huge beast, towering even over The Iron Bull, and most of its behemoth body was covered in red lyrium. I stared at it in horror for only a moment. The mark on my hand throbbed hard, perhaps reacting to the poisoned lyrium, and then I was fighting for our lives. An arrow hit me in my shoulder, and I grunted in pain. I pulled it from my joint, and the blue light on my forearm glowed bright, sending up tendrils of magic to heal the wound. I heard Fen snarl and bark, and then the sickening snap of a broken bone.

The taint used magic, leaving me feeling drained, but healed. I went to attack the behemoth, but it threw up a barrier made out of red lyrium. I screamed in surprise, jumping back. I ran around it, got body-slammed by a warrior, only to have that warrior frozen. Dorian loomed over me and helped me up. Once on my feet again, I saw that Bull had absolutely destroyed the giant, and we were able to finish aiming the trebuchet. Just as we got it into place, I heard a roar from above. I looked up and saw the dragon rounding above.

“Move!” I yelled at my friends, pointing back to the Chantry. “Go now!” My friends scattered, running, all except Fen, who stayed by my side, and I pulled out my staff, ready. The dragon let loose a fireball, and it hit the crates near me. I was blown over by the impact of the explosion. I flew several feet and landed on a snowbank. One of my ribs…it was cracked. The mark and the, for lack of a better word, taint on my arm flared bright, and I could feel my body healing itself. It took me a moment to gather my wits enough to sit up, and when I did, I saw him emerge from the flames. The Elder One.

He was huge—larger than life. Up close, his body looked even more painful—twisted and tainted beyond description, until his armor and flesh merged into one entity. His hands had lengthened, grown into talons. I couldn’t tell if the red beneath the tears of skin across his chest was lyrium or his ribcage. His pauldrons were massive, but his frame was spindly, starved. Yet nothing made my blood run cold the way his expression did. I had never seen someone look at me with _that_ level of hatred. I heard a roar behind me and spun around. There was his dragon, head bent low, approaching menacingly. It walked right up to me, threw back its head and let out a roar that shook the ground beneath my feet. The force of it bowled me over, and Fen snarled at it, enraged.

“Enough!” the Elder One demanded. He raised his arms, and I could feel magic pouring out of him. It hit me hard in the chest, then centered on the mark in my hand. It dragged me up to my feet. “Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.” He began walking towards me, slowly.

“What _are_ you?” I demanded, taking in his misshapen form. “Why are you killing all these people?”

“Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was.” The fire was growing. He walked through it as if it did not touch him—and maybe it didn’t. I tried not to look at the trebuchet, tried not to worry about it lighting. Keep him talking. “Know me; know what you have pretended to be.” He stopped, threw his arms wide. “Exalt the Elder One! The _will_ that is Corypheus!” He stared at me and the rage in his eyes was…intimidating. Slowly, taking his time, he raised his hand and pointed at me. “You will kneel.”

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me. I held out a hand. “I’m sorry; that was rude. You’re just…so ridiculous. I mean, what did you think was going to happen? That I would fall to my knees and grovel before you?” I raised my hand up, the green and blue glows mingling in that darkness. Fen lowered her head, staring at the tainted creature. “I have what you need.”

His face contorted with rage, but then smoothed. “You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not.” He pulled an orb out of somewhere—I could not tell where—and held it. He looked at it, and then back to me. “I am here for the _Anchor_. The process of removing it begins now.” The orb suddenly glowed red, lightning floating and spiking through it as it floated now in his palm.

The mark responded immediately, glowing brighter in response. An ache blossomed between the bones of my hand, and the muscles twitched and spasmed in reply. The mark jerked forward, and I could feel the orb pulling on it—to no avail. Corypheus’ empty hand glowed bright red as he reached towards me, trying to pull the mark out of my body. He let his hand fall, then brought it back up to try again.

“It is your fault, ‘Herald.’ You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.” The orb glowed bright and pain flew up my arm. “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as ‘touched,’ what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

“It was _given_ to you,” I spat angrily. “Given to you on a silver platter and you can’t even accept your own failure. It wasn’t luck that I was there.” Grabbing my hand to stymie the pain, I grinned at him with dark triumph. I looked at Fen, and she was able to sense what I wanted. Snarling and unhappy, she moved back, squatting near the trebuchet, waiting. I turned my focus back to the Elder One. “I was chosen by a true god—one whose likeness you could never even hope to rival.”

“Stop!” he snarled and sent a wave of that red light directly at me. It slammed into me, hitting me hard and sending me to the ground. I curled around my hand, the pain enormous. I could hear the dragon stalking around behind me, circling.

“You used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!”

I looked up at him as the red light swirled around us both. I had to keep him talking. “And what did you think to do with this? What is this ‘will’ of which you speak?”

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.” He approached me, his hands glowing hot, and he grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me into the air. He held me close to his face. “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to _serve_ the Old Gods of the empire _in person_.” He drew me closer and I could feel his hot, dry breath on my skin. I cringed. “I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more.” He squeezed my arm, his claws biting through my armor. “I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name but my own; to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world and those who claim to be _gods_.” He leaned in, his voice low and controlled but so, so angry. “Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the Gods, and it _was empty_!”

He threw me. My arm dislocated from its socket and I let out a grunt of pain as I slammed into the side of the trebuchet. _Perfect_. The blue light on my arm grew bright and swirled around my shoulder. A loud pop and instant relief let me know my joint had been taken care of. The Magister of old stared at me, watching the light, clearly confused and interested. He did not take the time to enquire. “The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling.”

I saw a sword lying close. The perfect distraction. I went for it, grabbing it and jumping to my feet, holding it before me defensively. Corypheus and his dragon approached me slowly, taking their time. He was probably going to enjoy murdering me, the sick bastard.

“So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation—and _god_ —it requires.”

A light behind him went up in the hills. They were clear. My heart relaxed and I let out a sigh of relief. I grinned at him. “I saw your future, Corypheus. You fail at every turn. _Every. Single. One_.” His eyes burned bright with rage.

“ _You_. I will not suffer even an unknowing, ignorant rival. You _must_ die.”

“Can’t handle a little competition, eh Cory?” I smiled at the indignant look on his face. “You expect that I’ll fight you and die here, but you fell for the oldest trick in the book.” I sighed, shaking my head, shrugging at Fen. “Villains. You always monologue.” I grinned again and jumped onto the trebuchet’s lever, sending the rocks and stones flying. “Enjoy your victory!” I called, sprinting as fast as I could away from the impending doom and certain death. Fen was right beside me. We didn’t look back. I ran as hard and fast as I could, hearing the mayhem behind me. There—up ahead—I could see some sort of underground enclosure. I jumped just in time, Fen beside me still, crashing through the rotten planks and falling so far. I heard a crunch and everything went black.

 

**~**

 

The landing must have rendered me unconscious. I awoke, freezing and hurting and groggy, in what looked like a cave. Icicles hung from the ceiling, and I was lying in a pile of broken wood and hard rock. Whatever the taint in my arm was must have been working as I slept because I should have been _much_ more injured than I felt, and nearly all of my mana was depleted. The mark on my hand reacted to…something. I couldn’t see what.

I stood slowly and took in my surroundings. It wasn’t… _quite_ a cave. There were planks laid out in an obvious path, and a tunnel had been carved and decorated. I had to find the others. And then it hit me. “FEN!” I spun around, looking for my friend. I heard a soft woof. She was buried under some of the wood. I threw myself on the planks, ripping them off of her. She tried to stand, but one of her paws was broken, which explained the stabbing pain in my right hand. I knelt before her and used the absolute last of my magic to heal her. It wasn’t complete—she still had wounds, as did I, but at least now she would be able to walk. I pressed my forehead to her own, closing my eyes.

“Thank you, _falon_ ,” I said softly. She nuzzled my cheek. I waited a few minutes until enough of my mana had returned that I was confident I could at least try to protect us, and then we set out. Every minute wasted made the likelihood of finding our company all the slimmer. We walked quickly through the tunnels, and my body began to shake from the cold. I would waste magic on heat later, if it became an absolute necessity. And then my hand was throbbing and the Anchor was glowing. A rift was ahead.

There was at least one despair demon and several wisps up ahead. Fen snarled and was about to lunge when I held her back. The Anchor…perhaps the contact with the orb Corypheus carried had altered the mark—changed it; strengthened it. I don’t know why that idea came to me, but it did. I held out my left hand and sent out a _huge_ burst of energy. It hit the rift, twisted it, and the rift itself drew the energy of the demons, using their life, their strength, and sucking it back into the Fade. I grinned as the demons dissipated quickly, then closed the rift.

I could hear the storm now. Fen relaxed at my side, and looked up at me. At least she had a coat of fur—this would be easier on her, and for that I was grateful. “Come,” I said to her, and we left the caves. The cold hit me hard, the wind blowing right through me and freezing me to the bone. I huddled in on myself, using what little magic I had to generate some heat. Fen stuck close, more not to lose me I thought than to benefit from my magic. Up ahead, I could hear another wolf howl. Fen answered, calling back. I followed the sound.

We passed a few trees, found an ashy fire, and kept going. The wolf howled again, drawing us forward. The ground began to slope upwards. Every step became harder. I gripped the amulet around my neck, taking strength from it—from the idea of Solas. I wanted to do nothing more than lie down and sleep. I wondered if I would have the chance to see Fen’Harel, one last time…

Fen growled beside me, grabbing my pant leg. She dragged me, snarling violently as she pulled me forward. I nodded, swallowing. “Thanks girl,” I tried to whisper, but it came out a cracked and broken sound. The cold was…too much. But I couldn’t give up. If it took me, it would take me fighting. We came across another campfire, and this was still warm. I pushed forward, hearing the wolf howl. Fen’Harel…what if he was out there? What if he was waiting for me to find him?

We came upon the pathway through the mountains. There…a golden light. Breathing was hard—the air was so cold. I had stopped shaking. My knees trembled. I took a few more steps. Fen beside me began barking wildly. She ran ahead, and I lost sight of her. I lost sight of everything. The snow…it was soft, like a bed. Warm, too.

 

**~**

The next thing I felt was arms around me. My eyes fluttered, and healing energy was washing through me. Fen’Harel…I could smell him. I could…

I woke up sometime later, on a cot beneath a canopy. Fen was a heavy warmth on my chest. Someone was holding my hand, and someone else was praying. I could tell that voice was Mother Giselle’s. I turned my face to the person gripping my hand so tenderly, and my eyes fluttered open. As my vision focused, I could have sworn it was Fen’Harel—that he had come for me, saved me from the snow. But as my eyes cleared, I saw it was Solas. Just as good. I smiled at him. He hadn’t realized I had woken.

“Good morning,” I managed, my throat still a little sore and hoarse. His grip on my hand tightened as his head snapped up.

“You’re awake!” he exclaimed. When I tried to sit up, both he and Fen pushed me back. “No, you must rest. Your body has undergone much trauma in a small span of time. I have done what I can to heal you, and though the mark on your arm has done much, it could not do everything.”

“Roderick,” I said, struggling up. “I have to help Roderick—”

“I am afraid that it is too late to help the Chancellor,” Solas said as kindly as he could. “He passed an hour ago.”

My heart sank. “I promised him…I promised him I would help.”

“And you did—you saved us all, and he was at peace when he passed to the next realm.”

I gazed into his sky-colored eyes, so kind and yet so sad. I brought his hand up to my mouth and I kissed it, closing my eyes tightly. I spoke against his knuckles. “I am sorry I left you behind. _Ar lath ma_ ,” I said, knowing he might not want to hear it, but I had almost died—I needed him to know. I _needed_ him to understand.

His hand, caught between my own, squeezed mine. He reached out and ran his fingers through my hair. His lips skimmed my forehead, making my heart lurch in my chest. “I know. Rest now, _falon_.”

“Your friend is correct,” Giselle said from beside me. “You need to rest.”

I glanced at her, then looked out at my advisors. I could hear them now, in the quiet, arguing. I frowned, looking at Solas. “How long have they been at it?”

“Hours,” he said, his gaze intense as he stared into my eyes as if the rest of the world were not here.

“They have that luxury, thanks to you,” Giselle said. “The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus.”

I turned and looked at her, hated to be pulled away from Solas as he made my bones turn to mush. “If that thing is still free, we need to find some place safe.”

“They are uncertain where, and there are other questions. About you.” I groaned and rolled my eyes, unable to help myself. Giselle continued. “Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand…and fall.” She straightened her shoulders. “And now, we have seen her _return_.” I sat up with the help of Solas, one of his hands on the small of my back. It lingered there, and made it hard for me to concentrate on what the Mother was saying. “The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What ‘we’ have been called to endure? What ‘we,’ perhaps, must come to believe?”

“I’m no Herald. I didn’t die beneath the avalanche. I’m just _me_.”

“I wonder,” Solas said, beginning a slow massage on the muscles of my lower back. It sent…fire through my blood. “I wonder if even you know truly what you are becoming, _lethallan_.”

“Of course,” Giselle said, “and the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps, what the needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are _not_ with us?”

If I didn’t get away from Solas’ ministrations soon, I was going to mount him in front of the Mother, watchers be damned. I gently nudged Fen to the side and ignored her whine of protest. I stood slowly, cracking my back. “Whatever it is you both say, _no_. I’m just an elf. I’m just myself. I stand for no one else.” I walked towards my advisors, wanting…to do something. They were all despondent. Cullen was pacing off to the side, hunched over and rubbing his back. Josie was sitting, her forearms braced on her knees, and hanging her head. Cassandra was puzzling over a map, but her heart wasn’t in it. She had no idea where to go. Disgusted, she shook her head. I stood there, Fen padding up beside me.

And then Mother Giselle began to sing.

“Shadows fall and hope has fled / Steel your heart, / the Dawn will come. The night is long and the path is dark / Look to the sky, for one day soon / The Dawn will come.”

People began joining in, singing together. If anyone started holding hands, I was _bailing_ on the Inquisition—they could fight Coryphe-shits themselves.

“The night is long and the path is dark / Look to the sky, for one day soon / the Dawn will come. / The shepherd’s lost and his home is far / Keep to the stars, / the Dawn will come.”

They began to circle me. I backed up, panic welling in my chest. All joking aside, this…this was _terrifying_.

“Bare your blade and raise it high, / Stand your ground / the Dawn will come. / The night is long and the path is dark, / Look to the sky, for one day soon/ The Dawn will come.”

I backed up further, nearly bumping into Mother Giselle. She looked at me. “Faith may have yet to find you, but it has already found them.”

I swallowed. Hard. Faith. It was powerful—and terrifying. Solas walked up behind me, his hand trailing along my back. I shivered, and not from the cold. “A word?” he asked, and kept walking, knowing that I would follow. I looked down at Fen.

“Stay, girl. Go watch over Cole.”

Fen snorted, but obliged me. She cast me a look over her shoulder as she trotted off, seeking out the young man with unerring accuracy.

Solas led me just outside of camp. There was a torch posted, and with a wave of his hand, he lit it with veilfire. I watched the sway of his walk when his back was to me. I forced my eyes off of his backside. I was worse than a teenager! He turned to face me, his arms casually behind his back.

“The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting.” I tried not to wince. He saw and his tone became a touch more gentle. “Her faith is hard-won, _lethallan_ , worthy of pride…save one detail.” He leaned back, rocking onto his heels gently. “The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours.” He glanced at me obliquely as I stepped closer, unable to stop myself from seeking to be near him. “Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave.” His gaze flicked over me, and his posture relaxed slightly. One of his hands came around and caught mine, his pinky finger hooking my own. “We must find out how he survived…and we must prepare for their reaction when they learn the orb is of our people.”

“Can you tell me more about it? Did you learn about it in the Fade?” The simple touch was making my heart race, but I had to focus. If I didn’t, he would pull back and probably interpret as: never touch the ‘Herald’ again because of her one-track mind.

“Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remain are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire.”

“It isn’t dead,” I said, as gently as I could. “It’s just changed, Solas. Change is not always good, and it is not always easy. But it isn’t death.” I paused, frowning. “I thought they weren’t gods—not really.”

“I use the word for convenience,” he said, inclining his head respectfully, perhaps appreciating my need for clarification. “They were beings the likes of which the modern elves do not understand. Regardless, however Corypheus came to it, the orb _is_ elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith.”

I slid my fingers through his own, holding his hand. He curled his fingers around mine and I could have sworn my heart _stopped_. I inhaled sharply, clearing my mind through sheer will. “Their blame isn’t going to matter. Not if we can’t unite and get out of here—wherever this is.”

“That is the immediate problem…and it offers a solution that may secure your place in their hearts.”

I frowned at him, stepping even closer, until a deep breath would make us touch. “What do you mean?”

“You saved them at Haven. Perhaps you can again.”

“That wasn’t just me, _lethallan_.” I gave his hand the softest of squeezes. “We all tried.”

He shook his head. “By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed _you_. Scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build…grow…You know it already: Skyhold.”

“I only know _of_ it, _lethallan_ ,” I said, looking him in the eye and holding his gaze, despite its intensity. “I couldn’t get us there. We need _you_ for that. I need you.” I said the last bit softly, a touch remorseful about having sent him away before the confrontation.

“The Inquisition needs you to be their hope—their Herald. That hope will inspire the movement, draw people to our cause and help us attain our goals. I have said before that subterfuge is, perhaps, a necessary evil in which one must indulge when the situation is dire. This is that time, _falon_.”

“I _can’t_ ,” I said, feeling my voice quiver. I was tired. I was bowing under the weight of stress—the stress of letting down so many people. Of lying to them, and being caught in that lie. “I cannot do that. I will help us scout northwards, yes, but I will not call myself that title. I cannot pretend to be a god, or the representative of one. Then how am I better than Corypheus?”

“Did a god-like being not choose you?”

“That’s different,” I said sternly. “If I went around telling people Mythal brought me here from another world—”

“Exactly,” he said. “It is a necessary deception. You have twisted the truth because it is the best course of action.”

“Omission and straight-out lies are different,” I said, then added, “I think. I’m not sure. All I know is one makes me feel worse than the other.”

“Sometimes we must do that which we would never desire, for the good of the people.”

I wanted to shake him. I felt my eyes water. “Solas, please. I will not actively pretend to be the representative of a god I do not believe exists. Do not ask this of me. If you push me, I fear I will do it—for you. And it will eat me alive.”

He inhaled sharply, looking at me. His free hand wrapped around the base of my skull and drew me closer. I thought for a moment he might…but no. He kissed my forehead, then released me, walking back towards camp. “Come, _lethallan_. We may discuss this at a later date. Tonight, it is enough to know our destination.”

I watched him walk ahead, my chest tight and my eyes burning. After a moment, he paused and waited for me to catch up. I did, and I took his hand into my own. We informed my advisors, _together_ , that there was a place we could go. Northwards. We could leave at first light. As we sat, eating dinner, I kept feeling uncomfortable at all the stares and hushed whispers that surrounded me. Fen was a comfort by my side, but Solas was gone to bed and I felt alone. Until Varric sat beside me. He slapped me on the shoulder, grinning.

“Good thinking, Blossom.”

I frowned at him over my sweet potato. “What was?”

“Having us stash those supplies north of Haven. The one near here has been raided—probably by the Avvar—but we salvaged enough to keep the troops warm through tonight, and fed.” He sat back, grinning. “You sure you’re not the chosen of Andraste?”

I must have gone pale because he reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. “Hey, Sun-Blossom, I was kidding. Eat up. You deserve a break tonight.”

“Tell me a story about Hawke,” I half-asked, half-pleaded. I bit into my too-hot vegetable, relaxing somewhat as Varric immediately launched into how they had had to hunt down a group of apostate mages for the Chantry under Meredith. He told me about how one young man had escaped _solely_ to get laid. I snorted and nearly choked on my mouthful of food. “What did you _do_?”

“Hawke told him to get lost—out of Kirkwall—by morning.” Varric grinned up at me. “That kid had the worst hair I’ve ever seen, and I saw Curly before he discovered relaxer.”

“Aww…” I grinned at him, glancing at our Commander. “Cullen’s hair can’t have been _that_ bad.”

Varric smiled over the bite of food that hovered near his mouth. “Maybe you’ll see on our surprise camping trip. Maybe he forgot to grab some before we left Haven. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s gotten lost.” He tapped the pouch attached to his belt and smirked.

I giggled into my root vegetable, shaking my head. Varric always knew how to relax me, to put me at ease. I was able to enjoy the night a little bit more now. Dorian came over and flopped down beside me, looking rather put out. I smiled at him. “What’s wrong, Dorian? Aside from Haven and Corypheus.”

“You know the Iron Bull is Ben-Hassrath, yes? A spy. An actual Qunari spy.”

I nodded once. “Yes; he told me when I recruited him.”

“That doesn’t strike you as a _bad_ thing?” he demanded, looking truly flummoxed.

“Says the Vint,” Bull said from across the fire. “When we’re fighting, who? Oh, that’s right: Vints.”

“That’s…” Dorian began, then paused. “…Not a terrible point. Okay.” He stewed a moment, looking down at his hands. When he raised his head, he looked directly at the Iron Bull. “You’ve killed lots of my countrymen, I take it?”

“Sure; usually when I’m being paid for it,” Bull clarified, then bit into a leg of some fowl.

“What? Never just for fun?” Dorian taunted.

“I’m here, aren’t I? Man’s gotta take his fun where he can find it.” The Iron Bull may have looked Dorian over appreciatively. It was hard to tell in this light.

Doing my best not to smile, I clapped Dorian on the shoulder and rose. “If he gets handsy, or if anyone threatens you, come get me. I’ll set them right.”

The mage’s moustache twitched above his small smile. “I…appreciate that, but I’m sure I can defend myself against the lummox over there.”

“I heard that,” replied said lummox.

“Good.”

Bull grinned a slow grin, a sparkle in his eye. “Must grind your gristle the Elder One is some crazy Vint asshole, huh?”

Dorian sat up a little straighter. “I’m not thrilled to discover we should take those old legends at face value.”

Iron Bull sat back, putting his hands behind his head. “Guess he thinks the modern Imperium is a real letdown, too.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Dorian said, rather magnanimously. “Tevinter once covered all Thedas, its glory only matched by its depravity. It’d be like Koslun showing up and learning the Qunari didn’t conquer the world after all.”

Bull rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, yes. Priesthood’s been trying to explain that one for centuries.”

“Good night,” I said, rolling my eyes as I made for my tent. Fen yawned, stood, and followed me. We curled up in a tent to ourselves, and as I was closing my eyes for sleep, I heard Cassandra bark out an order for Sera to “return those socks” to whom they belonged. Laughter mingled with the crackling of the campfire and the snorts of brontos.

 

**~**

 

The moment I opened my eyes in the Fade, his hands were sliding across my jaw to cup my face. His mouth was on mine before I could even gasp, his fingers digging into my skin. Desperate. Hungry. His tongue pried my lips apart and invaded the warmth of my mouth. He tasted me so deeply, so thoroughly, his teeth scraping my lower lip, that I felt my knees begin to give. He broke the kiss in favor of biting the side of my neck and sucking on the skin hard. I keened, raking my fingers through his hair.

“Solas—”

He growled against my throat, and released me. “You think about him often, do you?” One of his hands grabbed my right breast and gave it a good squeeze. I arched into his palm, the heat from his skin seeping through my shirt.

“I think about you too,” I said, my voice more breath than substance.

“Not enough,” he said, his other hand now snaking around my waist to settle on my bottom. He squeezed both parts of my anatomy _hard_ , and drew a cry out of me.

“Fen’Harel!” I exclaimed, my arms going around his shoulders as he walked me back. My legs hit the side of a bed and he shoved me down, immediately beginning to tear at my clothes.

“You made me _worry_ ,” he accused, ripping through buttons. The cool air hit my breasts and made my nipples tighten into small, hard buds. He pinched them before moving down to tug my trousers off.

“You _knew_ what I had to do—”

His head dipped and he bit my stomach, his eyes looking up and boring into my own. He sucked on the flesh near my navel, then trailed bites down my skin. I arched beneath him, my body instantly responding to this new side of him—and I liked it. His teeth were just shy of pain, leaving me trembling and wet and _ready_. When he reached my aching sex, he paused, examining me. He used his thumbs to part my outer lips, ran his tongue across my inner labia, but then _stopped_.

“You left the most powerful mage behind—the one with the best healing talents. That was thoughtless. You _made me worry_.”

I spread my legs, my gaze intense and hot as I stared him down. “Are you going to punish me for that, or are you going to celebrate my life and make love to me?”

He cursed beneath his breath, and with a few jerky movements, had himself freed from his pants. “I planned on _both_ ,” he said through grit teeth. He crawled up my body, settling his hips at the juncture of my legs. I could feel how hard he was, and rolled my spine, trying to urge him inside of me.

He kissed me hard, and I could taste myself on his tongue. I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him down as I raked my nails across the skin of his back. I crossed my ankles, trapping him. He groaned into my mouth, and the head of him, the very tip, pushed past the petals of my sex. He broke the kiss, biting my lip again. “You will not make me worry again. It is not a feeling to which I am accustomed, and it was foolish. Take the mage with you.”

“I had Dorian—and I know a few healing tricks,” I said, somehow managing to make my mouth form coherent words. His chest pressed down into my own, rubbing against my nipples even as the weight from his hips pushed on my clitoris.

“Take the one whose name you call when I am making you come.” His voice was hot and hoarse in my ear. I shuddered, dragging my nails across his skin again, needing him closer. “The one whom you think of as I plunge into you and fill you with my seed.”

“I think of you,” I said honestly.

“Not only,” he corrected, and then he shoved himself fully inside of me with one powerful thrust. I screamed, all of my muscles tightening around him as my legs and arms drew him closer.

“By the Dread Wolf!” I tried to raise my hips, to move with him, but he grabbed my waist and held me down.

“Tell me you will not be so foolish again.” His voice was panting, heavy and hoarse. He pulled out of me almost completely, and then he was shoving himself into me again with one powerful movement. He repeated this, over and over, his hips working hard and fast.

“ _Vhenan_ ,” I whispered, his vigorous assault on my senses making it impossible to think. “I… _oh harder_!”

He snarled, his teeth clamping down on my shoulder hard as he held me in place and mounted me over and over, each forge shaking my breasts and making them bounce against his chest. One arm wrapped round me, holding me still as the other found one of my breasts and squeezed it _forcefully_. I couldn’t move, not freely. All I could do was bite into his skin with my nails, clamp my legs around his waist tightly and hold on as he rode me, his pace and force unyielding. His thrusts drove into the center of me, and each one wound me tighter and tighter. I could feel the orgasm building, his body pushing into and rubbing against my clit with each and every wild thrust. He was making a low noise in his throat, his erection hot and throbbing as he pounded away inside of me.

He squeezed my breast, pinched my nipple and rolled it between his fingers. His mouth relaxed on my skin, and his tongue swirled over the teeth marks, easing the small ache he had created. He rolled his hips, thrusting now at a new angle and it was just what I needed—he hit the right spot, over and over, and the orgasm that rocked my body had me bucking beneath him and screaming out his name. My fingers dug in deep, and my legs held him firmly against my body. He continued pounding into me, hammering me into the mattress beneath him until my first orgasm became a second, just as strong as the first. I cried out for mercy, the sensation almost too much, and then he was holding me down and coming so deep inside of me. I could feel him, twitching and spurting. I screamed into a pillow this time, my body shaking with the aftershocks of orgasm, muscles feeling weak and trembling.

My lover collapsed on top of me, his weight heavy, making it difficult to breathe. He groaned and rolled over, dragging me with him, holding me captive against his chest. I panted there, clutching him tightly. I grinned up at him, a twinkle in my eye. “Next time you should tie me down first.”

He looked at me, stunned, and then threw back his head and laughed. He laughed long and hard, and finally drew me up to his mouth to kiss me, still chuckling. His fingertips ran over my skin, giving me goosebumps. Fen’Harel sighed when he broke the kiss, and gently rustled the tresses of my hair. He pressed his forehead against my own. “ _Da’falon_ ,” he said at last, “please—do not face danger alone again. This weary soul could not take it. If I cannot be beside you as I am, take the mage with you. I trust him above the others in your party. He understands your value better than they.”

“My ‘value?’” I demanded, tensing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You mistake my words,” he said, his fingers going to the back of my neck to massage out the tension that was suddenly there. “Your value not to Thedas, but as an individual. Your value beyond that of the Anchor you bear.”

I looked at my hand, and while I wanted to ask what he meant—to tell him that Solas did not see me as anything other than important to Thedas—something else was bothering me. “Why didn’t you tell me what this was? You knew, didn’t you?”

“Would it have done you any good?” he countered, his fingers sliding through my hair again, enjoying the sensation. “You know it is an Anchor. I did not know what Corypheus intended to do with it. If you had accidentally told someone else what you had learned, they would question how you knew. I do not think many would believe that one of the Elvhen pantheon telling you in a dream after making love to you to be a viable answer.”

I laughed shakily, and I rested my head against his chest once more. “You’re wrong about Solas, though.”

“Oh? How do you mean, _da’falon_?”

I closed my eyes. “He doesn’t see me as anything other than a tool to help Thedas. When I left him behind, do you know what he said? He told the others not to let harm come to me because I was the only chance for Thedas. Not because he cared, or they should care about me—simply for Thedas.” I swallowed and forced myself to continue. “He’s right, of course. Because of this Anchor, my life is important. I have to protect it so I may protect the people.”

Fen’Harel’s arms had grown progressively tighter around me. I looked up at him, a touch confused. He gazed at me, or so I thought, it was always difficult to tell where he was looking exactly. “You truly believe that is all that this Solas sees you as? A means to save the world?”

“Mayhap a friend,” I said with a shrug. “But he’s made it clear he’s not interested in me in any other way. Sometimes…” I felt my gaze relax as I pictured his face. “Sometimes I think maybe, _maybe_ , he could be…he could think of me as something more. But no—he won’t. I mean, he knows that I’m sleeping with you and he could care less.” I paused, frowning. “Does it really not bother you that I love you both?”

“No,” he said, touching my chin gently. His thumb ran over my lower lip. “I cannot be with you outside of the Fade. It would be natural to want a relationship in the waking realm.”

I sat up, then slid my knees onto either side of his waist. I gazed down at him, and ran my hands across his chest, feeling his skin hot against my palms. “So you really wouldn’t mind if I took another lover?”

“If Solas—”

“What if it wasn’t Solas?” I asked, purely out of curiosity. His reaction was sudden and surprising. His entire body tensed and I could have sworn I saw something flash in his eyes. He did not relax, and his voice was guarded when he spoke.

“Someone else?”

“If someone other than Solas wanted to have a relationship with me,” I clarified. I leaned down and planted a kiss on his clavicle, expecting him to begin to relax. He did not.

“I…would understand if you chose a relationship in the waking world over the limited companionship I may offer.”

I looked up at him, pressing my chest against his, my breasts flattening. “You think I would ever choose someone over you, if that was my option?”

“Is that not why you ask?”

I groaned, pressing my forehead into the side of his throat. “Fen’Harel… _ar lath ma_. You. I love _you_. I love Solas. You two are the only ones I will ever want. And Solas will never want me, so you don’t need to worry about me choosing another.” I pressed a kiss against his pulse, feeling his muscles slowly begin to lose their tension. “Besides…I could never leave you.”

“There is only this Solas, aside from myself?” he asked, almost tentatively. His hands spread across my waist, then ran up my back.

“Of course,” I reassured him. I laughed softly. “Are you sure your kind cannot have children with the elves? You and Solas might be distant relations—maybe that is why he reminds me so much of you, and you of him.”

“That would be impossible,” he said, his fingers now climbing up my neck and through my hair. He massaged my scalp slowly, gently. “But…if it were the mage, I could be amenable to the situation. I believe he might understand our circumstances, and know that the Fade is sacred to you and I, and not require me to give you up.”

I brushed a kiss against the underside of his jaw, then gently nibbled at the sensitive spot beneath his ear. “Put it from your mind. It will never happen.”

“Hmm,” was all he said in reply. He rolled me onto my back, his hips pinning mine down. His head dipped down and he kissed me slowly. That was all the speaking we did that night.

The next morning, we packed up camp and began to move north. Solas, Fen and I ran ahead of our troops, scouting the land.

It was going to be one cold, long march.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I made a tumblr for this fic. If you're interested in extra tidbits, deleted scenes, and maybe quick Solas POV quips (until I can take the time to write him a full chapter or so), that is where I will post those kinds of things.
> 
> http://throughtheseeingglassfanfic.tumblr.com/
> 
> I've got one deleted scene up so far--originally Fen'Harel brought Lavellan through the eluvian, not Mythal, but that really did not work for plot reasons. Anyway! There's a scene between the two of them that I had to chop. Have a good week, lovelies!


	13. Skyhold

I was sick to death of snow. I was tired of using my magic to insulate myself with enough heat to keep my toes from freezing. Fen loved every second of it. She was constantly frolicking, rolling through snowbanks happily, a true puppy. Her joy gave me joy and made the journey bearable. Of course, my companions were also incredibly amusing. Bull seemed to have made it his new purpose to torment Dorian as much as possible. To some extent, I thought the mage must have enjoyed the attention because he kept engaging the Qunari mercenary in conversation, even if his tone was disdainful and sneering.

“So,” Dorian said, picking his way delicately through the snow, despite his hale physique, “they’re the Chargers, and you’re the Bull. That’s clever.”

Bull snorted as he glanced at Dorian askance, easily trudging through the snow like a plough. “Work that out on your own, did ya?” He shook his head, grinning. “You gotta keep the name simple, so the nobles get it. They pay us to fight, not entertain at tea.”

“ _That_ I’d like to see.” The mage paused, then narrowed his eyes. “The other night…what _does_ the Qunari priesthood tell your people about losing the war?”

Bull shrugged dispassionately. “Ehn. The usual. Water comes; water goes, but eventually the tides wear away the mountain. Blah, blah, blah.”

Dorian’s moustache twitched. “They’ve been fighting Tevinter for centuries and still haven’t won.”

The mountain of a mercenary stopped in his tracks. He grinned slowly. “Wait, you think we’ve been at war all this time?”

“It’s barely an eye-watering slap fight, I’ll grant you, but every now and again it heats up.”

Iron Bull laughed softly beneath his breath. Shaking his head, he began the slow but steady trudge forward. “That’s just force of habit. A real invasion’s different.”

Dorian scrunched his nose. “What are they waiting for?”

“Don’t know. Someone to tell someone to tell someone it’s on again. I guess.”

They were quiet for a good ten or so minutes before Dorian ventured, “I hope it doesn’t bother you to travel alongside a ‘Vint,’ Iron Bull.”

The Iron Bull didn’t even look at him as he walked along, clearing a path for the smaller man—or at least, that’s what I thought he was doing. “That what you are? You people all kind of look the same to me.”

“I’m also a mage,” Dorian pointed out. “Would you prefer me bound and leashed?”

Bull’s mouth twitched. “I’d buy you dinner first.”

One of Dorian’s eyebrows quirked in response. “Hopefully before you sewed my mouth shut.”

“Depends on how much you keep yapping.”

The conversation dissolved into mindless bickering. I snorted and moved ahead of them. I saw Fen up ahead, running circles around Solas as he scouted. I grinned and aimed for them.

“Solas!” I called, smiling. He stopped and half-turned. He inclined his head as I joined him, a small smile on his lips.

“Yes, _lethallan_?”

I slid my hand into his own, my fingers threading through his. I half-expected him to pull away, but instead, he gave me a squeeze and held on just as tightly. My heart sped, and I couldn’t help the smile that split across my face.

“How many more days do you think we’ll be hiking the wilds until we find it?”

“Our Lady Seeker and Commander have estimated that we’ve traveled fifty or so miles,” Solas said. He tilted his head, examining the horizon just visible beyond the crest of the mountain. “If my estimations are correct, we should sight it on the morrow.”

I looked behind me, through the speckling of trees, down the snowy slopes and at the troops trailing behind us. There were so many—movement had been slow, but steady. The brontos and horses carried the brunt of our burden.

“You know,” I said softly, fluffing Fen’s fur with my free hand, “as arduous as this trip has been, I think I’ll miss it, in a way.” At Solas’ quizzical expression, I continued. “Having everyone together, working as one unit towards a goal, sleeping side by side all my friends at night.” I colored at the thought of some of my other nightly activities. I was abruptly brought out of my thoughts by fingers grazing my cheek. I blinked rapidly at Solas as his hand fell to his side. His smile stunned me into silence.

“That shade of pink is rather becoming,” he said, then added with a devilish gleam in his eye, “I wonder how far that blush extends? Just to your cheeks, or perhaps further down?”

My legs, rather suddenly, ceased to work. I stood still, my hand slipping from his. His warm chuckle rolled through me like a wave, and I watched him walk on ahead of me, Fen barking happily and jumping beside him. I swallowed. Hard. _What_ …?

A hard slap on my back had me stumbling forward and awakening from my semi-trance. I grabbed my heart, trying to slow its erratic beat, and glowered at Varric as he marched past me.

“Come on, Blossom. You can ogle Chuckle’s backside once we’ve reached wherever it is that we’re going.”

“I _wasn’t_ —”

“Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that, Blossom.”

I grit my teeth and followed. I was suddenly eager for this journey to be over.

That night, as we sat around the campfire, Sera told us a rather colorful tale of a young woman she had once, ah, _known_. It was rather graphic, and Sera told it with much animation and hand gestures—but the look on Cass’s face was priceless. If disgust had a facial expression, it would be that. As I leaned back, watching everyone else eat, I saw from the corner of my eye Solas lean towards Varric. The elven mage said something to the dwarf and gestured towards me. Varric looked over, and his brows furrowed.

“Good point, Chuckles.” Varric leaned forward, nudging me to get my full attention. “Blossom, when was the last time you ate?”

“What?” I asked, somewhat startled. “This morning, I think.”

Varric and Solas exchanged looks. The dwarven rogue shook his head. “No, Sun-Blossom, you didn’t. And you’re not eating now. Don’t make me worry about you; I’ve got enough to keep me up at night.”

I rubbed my chin in thought. “Huh…well, I just haven’t been hungry.”

Varric rolled his eyes as he moved towards the fire. He grabbed one of the potatoes roasting near the embers with a piece of cloth and brought it to me, careful not to burn either of us as he handed it to me. “Eat,” he said.

I wrinkled my nose, but obliged. I heard a soft coughing bark behind me and turned as Fen returned from her hunt. I could tell it had been successful—she felt full, contented, as she plopped beside me. I smiled and ruffled the fur behind her ears before taking a bite out of the root vegetable. My stomach turned, protesting, but I forced myself to finish the thing. They were right; I needed to keep my strength up, and the only way to do that was by taking care of myself. A little over halfway through trying to eat the damn thing, my arm suddenly flared bright blue. A spike of energy shot upwards from the brilliant light, and it traveled straight to my gut. My stomach roiled, and I barely made it to the tree-line before the contents of my meal were spilling themselves into the snow.

Fen was the first one to me. She pressed herself to my side, and I wrapped an arm around her to keep myself supported. As another wave hit me, hands were pulling my hair back gently, keeping it out of my face as my stomach fully emptied itself. Cool fingers pressed to my forehead, lowering the temperature of my skin. Healing energy rushed through me, mingling with the energy stemming from the blue light in my arm. Shaking, I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. I sank back onto my heels. Once I was done, I felt…oddly fine. I looked back and, to my horror, Solas was kneeling beside me, holding my hair. Everyone was gathered around, looking concerned.

“Herald…” Cullen ventured, looking concerned, “what…what happened? Are you well?”

“I…think so?” I looked at my arm, swallowed back my fear. “I think I just need…something else. No more root vegetables. Greens. I need greens.”

“Cravings?” Sera grinned, folding her arms across her chest. “Have you been being naughty?”

I stared at her, trying to understand her meaning. My eyes went wide when I did and I gripped Fen more tightly. “What? _No_ —I mean, no, n-not here. I can’t be…I’m not pregnant. I think it’s just, um, maybe a flu or something.”

Cassandra knelt down on the other side of Solas and handed me a flagon of water. I cleaned my mouth and returned it. Solas helped me stand, then wrapped an arm around my waist to support me. It made my knees weak.

“I am afraid the only greens we have at the moment are elfroot,” Josie said, looking impeccable despite the days of hiking.

“I’ll take some,” I said as Solas helped me back to the fire. Fen refused to leave my side, and once I was sitting, did her best to climb into my lap. I held her close, happy for the additional warmth. “Just a few,” I clarified as Leliana sent a runner to get some. She came back with a leather satchel full of fresh elfroot that was going to be dried tomorrow. I pulled out a few stems and handed the rest back. The taste was slightly bitter, or perhaps tart was the right word, but it wasn’t unpleasant. They helped fill my stomach, and I didn’t feel nauseated again, which was a relief. I didn’t have time to deal with a stomach bug.

Feeling everyone’s eyes upon me, I went to bed early, Fen still at my side. She curled up against me, her fur a gentle warmth I found so comforting. When I opened my eyes in the Fade, I was lying on my back, my head in Fen’Harel’s lap. His fingers were brushing across my forehead and running through my hair. I gazed up at him and smiled, enjoying his gentle ministrations.

“That feels nice,” I said softly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his head tilting to the side.

“Fine,” I said honestly. I pulled away from his tender touches and sat up, sliding into his lap. I leaned my head back against his shoulder as his arms slid around my middle. “I’ve been having a hard time with food. I haven’t been hungry, and when I try to eat, it’s getting more difficult to keep down. Especially roots, and they’re the easiest thing to keep and store.”

“Have you thought about meat?”

Even here in the Fade, my stomach recoiled. My body grew hot and I broke out into a sweat. “No…no way. I can’t take a life. Not if I don’t have to. I don’t know if I was like this back where I come from, but here…it just seems impossible. Against my nature.”

“It is your very nature that is so fascinating,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of my throat. “You must, however, eat.”

“I am! I kept down the elfroot just fine.” I tilted my head, looking at him. “Solas doesn’t eat much. He forces himself to eat some of the dried meats when we are traveling together, but I swear he does it so others won’t worry about him. I’ve never seen him eat at Haven.”

“Do not worry so about Solas. He is fine. Worry about yourself and your own health.”

“I do.” I scooted forward, and turned in his laps. I wrapped my legs around his waist and hugged his torso, glad for the contact. I missed it when I was awake—touch was so very good—especially Fen’Harel’s and Solas’. “I know this sounds bizarre, but when Fen eats, I think it helps to nourish me too. Every day, she and I become more and more connected. I think I can hear her thoughts. In battle, her mind is as clear as my own.”

Fen’Harel’s arms tightened around me. He pressed his face against my neck, and I could have sworn his breathing was uneven. “…The likes of such a bond has not been seen in Thedas since the true Elvhen walked the soil. To require such a small amount of nourishment…it makes me wonder.”

I pulled back again so I could try to look him in the face. I ran my fingers through his hair, drawing his shadowed gaze to my own. “What do you mean? What do you wonder?”

“Perhaps it is the time you spend in the Fade. You are a natural dreamer, the likes of whom I have not encountered since _Arlathan_ fell. You think, perhaps, that I seek you here, and that is why you ‘waken’ to find me—but it is the opposite. You seek me and you find me. When…when I had left, it took much to keep you from me.”

I closed my eyes at the pain of him leaving. I pressed my forehead to his shoulder. “Then don’t do that again…and you won’t have to waste your energy.”

“While I have no intention of being shorn from your side, you miss my point entirely. Your power grows daily. I have never seen so much power outside of the pantheon.” His fingers brushed across the blue light on my arm and I snorted.

“That was a fluke. It was because of the Anchor and the Blight and the Fade. It wasn’t me.”

“While skepticism is always a healthy trait,” Fen’Harel said, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have said he was smiling, “you seem to be saturated with it. No ordinary mage could have conjured such a transformation, even with the Anchor as a conduit and energy source. You are entirely unique.”

“Perhaps it’s due to my origins,” I murmured, leaning close to smell his skin. I kissed the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse against my lips.

“Hmm,” he purred, his voice dropping. “Perhaps. You should allow me to inspect you and the mark fully.”

I used the tip of my tongue to trace a line up his throbbing pulse and to the lobe of his ear, which I caught gently between my teeth.

“…But that can wait,” he said, and suddenly I was on my back. Laughing, I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him down to me.

While he never got to my arm, that night he made a very thorough examination of me, and I him.

 

**~**

 

Elfroot for breakfast was interesting. I felt slightly guilty for wasting it considering its primary purpose was healing, but the bread I was offered made me physically ill, so it was back to greens. It was midmorning when we came a sharp rise in the mountain side. Solas walked up beside me as I stopped to give Fen some water. He knelt next to me and pointed. “There. Come.”

Ruffling Fen’s fur once more, I stood and followed him. He stood back once we crested the top. Slabs of stone rested here, creating a natural path. I moved between them, looking up at the rock as it towered above me. And then Solas came up behind me, and leaned against his staff. I looked out and gasped, my eyes growing wide. There it was. Skyhold stood nestled perfectly against the stone, a bridge leading up to the grandest castle I had yet seen. Even from this distance, I could see foliage had overgrown much, and there were holes in some of the ceilings—but none of that mattered. Its walls towered high, well-fortified. It would be the perfect home for our people—the perfect place to protect Thedas from Corypheus. My breath was still caught in my lungs as Solas stood beside me and said, pride evident in his voice, “Skyhold.”

“ _Tarasyl’an Te’las_ ,” I whispered. I turned to him and threw my arms around him, squeezing him. “Thank you, _mir’falon_.”

After a moment, the arm not supporting his staff wrapped around me. I could feel my breathing sync with his own. His smell…it was so familiar. It reminded me strongly of Fen’Harel’s, just slightly less wild—less musk and more spice. I sighed, contented, and before I could stop myself, absently said, “You smell so nice.”

He tensed against me, and I immediately realized my mistake. Biting back another sigh, this one heavy, I let him go and stepped away. “ _Ir abelas_ , _lethallan_.” I did my best to smile. “I don’t mean to make things awkward or difficult for you.”

“Awkward, no,” he said, frowning. “Difficult, perhaps. But that is of little concern. Go—lead them, _lethallan_.”

Fen was just coming up the stone pathway. She sauntered up to my side and together, we began the descent towards the keep. Solas remained behind me, watching. I could feel his gaze and it took more restraint that I knew I had to not look back.

 

**~**

 

It was strange how quickly everything seemed to fall into place. Brontos and horses were unloaded; people began building temporary shelters; our scouts began to determine what repairs we would need, how much it would cost and how long to get the supplies, Josie leading them with Leliana at her side.

I stood with Fen, watching it all. Ravens were already flying, leaving and sending word to nearby refugees. _Good_ , I thought, watching a man heave a box onto a table and begin to hock his wares. Skyhold could protect them. The Chantry was quick to arrive—faster than most of the refugees who were probably closer. Of course, most of the refugees didn’t have mounts, so there was that to consider.

I stood watching these people for whom I felt such strong kinship, my wolf at my side. My chest was tight. I had to do right by them. I had to help. I had to save them.

Cassandra and my advisors were gathered in the courtyard. Cassandra saw me first, and her smile made me teary eyed. When she gestured me to join them, it was all I could do not to cry. They were my _friends_. They cared about me. It was so different from when I had first woken in this world. I touched Fen to help ground myself, to put me in the moment and not linger on the past. I approached them, smiling. They parted for me, making room.

“They arrive daily from every settlement in the region,” Cassandra said, folding her arms behind her back. “Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.”

“Somewhat unsettling,” I said. “I would rather they simply seek our protection.”

She inclined her head. “True, but we must consider that if word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One.” She turned, motioning me to follow her. I let her lead me up a set of stone steps. “We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated. But,” she paused, letting me catch up, then continued towards another flight of stairs, “we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you.” She stopped before them, turning to me.

I looked at her, then down at the mark on my hand. “He came for this, and now it’s useless to him, so he wants me dead. That’s all there is to it, Cass.”

She shifted her weight to her left foot, cocking her head to the side. “The Anchor has power, but it’s not why you’re still standing here.” She clapped me on the shoulder and then turned, leading me further. “Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. Your foresight kept us fed in the cold. You are that creature’s rival because of what _you_ did. And we know it. All of us.” She paused before the stairs leading up towering over the courtyard. She motioned me ahead. I went, hesitantly.

Leliana was standing there, holding the largest sword I had ever seen. I swallowed, panic flaring in my chest. Oh, I knew where this was going. Cassandra came up behind me and said, “The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has _already_ been leading it.”

And then I felt it—the stares. I turned and looked over my shoulder. Soldiers, scouts, refugees, Josephine and Cullen with Lyrianna by his side, were all staring up at me, smiling, waiting. My stomach dropped. Fen butted her head into my hand, sensing my discomfort. I closed my eyes, felt her fur against my palm and slowed my breathing. I could do this. I had to—what choice was there?

“You,” Cass said, stepping close.

“Cass…I’m no Herald of Andraste. They’ll expect me to make miracles—how can I live up to that?”

“Haven’t you? Have you not risen from the ashes of Haven? Have you not healed a man stricken with the taint of the Blight? Did you not stand up to a creature formed of nightmare itself and stand triumphant? You are what this Inquisition needs. They want _you_.”

“But I’m _not_ chosen—not by Andraste!”

“They believe you are chosen because of what you have _done_. What you have _inspired_. In all of us.” She stepped to the side, allowing Leliana to step forward, and continued speaking. “Without you, there would be no Inquisition. Where you lead us, what kind of leader you are…that is up to you.”

Silent, Leliana held the sword aloft for me to grasp. It gleamed in the sun, and once again I felt Fen nudge me, urging me. It looked so heavy, as if the weight of it would break me. I reached out, trying not to shake. I grasped its hilt and braced myself as I lifted it. I was taken aback; it was completely a decorative piece—perhaps made of foil. It was light, easy to hold in my hand. I squeezed it, held it before me and stared at it.

“I…I will lead us. I will lead us to peace. But I will not be a Herald. I will be an ambassador. I will hopefully bring tolerance and understanding—an elf standing for Thedas. The Inquisition is for _all_.”

“Wherever you lead us,” Cass said, nodding her approval.

I turned to face the people, and she stepped up behind me. “Have the people been told?”

“They have,” Josephine replied, grinning. “And soon the world.”

“Commander,” Cass said, turning to look down at Cullen, “will they follow?”

He turned, facing the people. I saw Lyrianna smile at his back, the look in her eyes pride and…more. He was unaware, but it was so clear. “Inquisition! Will you follow?” Cullen demanded, raising his arms.

The crowds raised their arms in response, letting loose a loud cry.

Cullen smiled, one hand lifted. “Will you fight?”

A resounding cry.

“Will we triumph?”

The cry intensified. Cullen turned, grinning. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your _Inquisitor_!” He drew his sword, aimed it at me. Josephine was smiling, applauding quietly.

I inhaled sharply through my nose. Now was not the time to reinforce the notion that I was no Herald of Andraste. There would be time for that in the future. Right now, I hoisted the sword high above my head, giving them a figure, something at which to look. I could feel Cassandra smiling beside me. Even Leliana seemed pleased. Cullen smiled, and I could have sworn he was relieved. Lyrianna beside him took his hand, and the look in his eye changed as did his focus. Josephine made me smile—relax slightly—when she jumped up and down and surprised herself by letting out a cry with the crowd.

After a minute or so, when my arm was aching not from the weight, but the position, I lowered the sword and turned once more to Cassandra and Leliana. She took the sword from me, and the other two members of my council joined us. We walked together up the last steps and into the main hall. It was still a disaster—broken beams scattered the floor, hay here and there, furniture broken and rent in careless clusters—yet there, in the back, undaunted by decay, stood a throne. Fen had to give a small woof to keep my panic at bay. They would want me to sit there, on a throne. They would want me to be a spectacle.

I would have to make that a point of discussion.

Cullen turned around as I walked forward, his expression somewhat vague. “So this is where it begins.”

Leliana glanced at him askance. “It began in the courtyard. This is where we turn that promise into action.”

“Yes,” I said, agreeing with her.

“But what do we do?” Josie asked. “We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark.”

“Someone out there must know _something_ about Corypheus,” I said, turning to face them, the stained glass windows behind me casting everything in a soft blue light.

“Unless they saw him on the field,” Cullen said with a sigh, “most will not believe he even exists.”

“We do have one advantage: we know what Corypheus intends to do _next_ ,” Leliana reassured, turning from our commander to me. “In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated.”

“Imagine the chaos her death would cause,” Josephine said, stepping forward. “With his army…”

“An army he’ll bolster with a massive force of demons, or so the future tells us,” Cullen interrupted.

“Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god,” Josephine said, looking perhaps a touch distressed at the notion.

“I won’t let that happen,” I said. Fen beside me gave a small yap of encouragement.

Leliana looked at me and then sighed. “I’d feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with.”

“I know someone who can help with that.” Varric strode into the hall, and everyone turned at once at the sound of his voice. He stepped over the debris without looking, acutely aware of his surroundings as any good rogue should be. “Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend.” He walked up to me, looking me in the eye. “She’s crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he’s doing. She can help, Sun-Blossom.”

I smiled at him, thinking I had an idea about whom he was speaking. “I’m always interested in making new friends, Varric.”

He glanced over his shoulder, clearly checking for someone. “Parading around might cause a fuss. It’s better for you to meet privately. On the battlements. When she arrives.” He shook his head, turning. “Trust me; it’s complicated.”

I watched him walk away, excited to meet Hawke—if it was Hawke, but I was relatively certain it was.

“Well, then,” Josie said. “We stand ready to move on both of these concerns.”

“On your order, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, and relief shot through me. Maybe now we could truly put that Herald business behind us.

Leliana shook her head. “I know one thing: if Varric has brought who I _think_ he has, Cassandra is going to kill him.”

I nodded to my advisors and stepped around a fallen chandelier. People were already starting to fill in in the main hall—mostly workers and scouts attempting to assess the damage and repairs needed. As I was exiting the hall, I noticed two Orlesians—refugee merchants perhaps, and overheard a snippet of their conversation.

“This is the Inquisition? A dusty old ruin filled with battered soldiers?”

“If you shut your mouth and opened your eyes, you’d see the Inquisition is our one hope.”

They startled when they saw Fen come trotting along beside me, and inclined their heads somewhat nervously. Since we had come to Skyhold, I hadn’t seen Solas. I stood just outside of the main hall, looking up at the setting sun as it sank behind our thick walls. I wondered, as I idly ran my fingers through Fen’s fur, if he was avoiding me. After that hug, he had been noticeably absent. As the sky grew lilac and dusty orange, I rubbed the back of my neck. I knew somewhere he wouldn’t be able to avoid me—and somewhere he might actually be more comfortable. I looked down at Fen and tilted my head. “Hungry, girl? Want to stop by the kitchens?”

She let out a happy yip. The only drawback to Skyhold was the lack of hunting for a fully grown wolf—and she was the size of an adult wolf now, her growth rate having accelerated. Whether or not she was done growing yet, who could say? I led her back inside and through the circuitous hallways and down into the kitchen. Two servants were cleaning and talking under their breath, I think to complain about the cook. I greeted them, and they bowed silently, eyes wide. I tried not to sigh. It was inevitable that people be nervous around me. So I just smiled, trying to put them at ease as I picked out a large steak of raw meat for my large wolf.

…I could completely understand their hesitation, upon deeper reflection. I took it and Fen back to the room that Josie and Leliana had shown me as my own. I didn’t have much furniture yet, but they had managed to get me a bed and a desk, and for those two things I was grateful. It beat sleeping on a bedroll on the cold stone floor. I set the meat down for Fen and collapsed onto the bed. I didn’t bother disrobing. I was too tired after the day’s events. So much pressure, so many expectations…I couldn’t afford to let them down. Fen climbed up next to me when she was done eating and buried herself against me, keeping me warm and comforted. I smiled as I wrapped an arm around her, and set out a very specific intention as I fell asleep—no Fen’Harel tonight, and hopefully he would forgive me. He had been so passionate these last few nights…but no, I had to focus. Tonight I was going to look for Solas.

I was in my bed when I opened my eyes in the Fade. I sat up, threw my legs over the side of the monstrous thing and stood. I touched the wolf jawbone necklace and thought of Solas. Almost like a beacon, I knew where he was. I ran down the steps towards the main hall, and then darted down one of the side paths and into the rotunda. There he was, standing at a desk and contemplating some scrap of paper upon it, lost in thought. I smiled when I saw him.

“Solas.”

He looked up, perhaps surprised to see me. He smiled slowly. “ _Mir’falon_ ,” he said. My friend. My heart warmed. I reached out and took his hand into my own, searching his eyes.

“I’ve missed you these last few days. So much has happened, and I feel I need your support now more than ever.”

He threaded his fingers through my own. “You continue to surprise me. All right, let us talk…preferably somewhere more interesting than this.”

“Or at least more private,” I said, smiling.

His auburn eyebrows rose, but his smile remained. “That as well. Come,” he said, leading me out through a side door. Instead of seeing the rest of Skyhold, we were at the entrance of Haven—Haven before it had been demolished by Corypheus. He released my hand, walking ahead. I followed behind him, watching his back. Snow was falling around us so gently. The effect was lovely, but I was curious.

“Why here, Solas? Why Haven?”

“Haven is familiar,” he said, over his shoulder. “It will always be important to you.”

“As will you,” I said, unable to help myself.

He smiled but said nothing. We walked together, with me just a step or two behind, up through the deserted walkways and into the Chantry. He led me down into the dungeon, and it looked remarkably like where I had first been held—and perhaps it was, through a trick of the Fade. He stopped to stand before a cell, one torch casting dim light on the stone ground.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the Anchor.”

“Thank you,” I said, stepping closer, “for watching over me.”

“You were a mystery,” he said, turning to face me and put a step of distance between us simultaneously. “You still are.” He stopped speaking and looked at me, really considered me. “I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, yet found nothing.” He paused to smile. “Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”

“She only threatens to execute those she thinks highly of,” I said, “so there’s that.”

He chuckled under his breath and shook his head once. “Yes.” He gave me a smile that stopped my heart and turned, walking back out. I followed, unable not to. The sunlight hit us, shading us both in tones of gold. “You were never going to wake up,” he said, pacing ahead again. “How could you, a mortal sent physically through the Fade?”

He turned to look at me obliquely, his head cocked to the side. “I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach.” He turned to face me dead on. “Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra…or she in me. I was ready to flee.”

I laughed at that, reaching out, unable to stop myself, and taking his hand. I squeezed it before letting him go. “And where would you have gone, _lethallan_? Where would have been safe? Where would you go?”

His eyes danced with laughter. “Someplace far away where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me.” He cocked his head and shrugged. “I never said it was a good plan.”

He turned and looked up to the sky, the Breach above us. It swirled with green light, stones and rocks and debris caught in its pull. He walked towards it, staring up at it intently. “I told myself: one more attempt to seal the rifts.” He thrust his hand out, his gaze never wavering. He dropped it after a moment. “I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them.” He took a deep breath, and I could tell how tense he was to be thinking about all of this. “I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then…”

The image of the two of us standing side by side appeared, and the image-Solas grabbed my hand, thrust it towards a rift, and there was an explosion of power, of energy. The two disappeared, and Solas turned to face me, his profile illuminated by the green light as it faded. He approached me, and the look in his eyes had my knees quivering. His smile was small but so warm.

“It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture…and right then, I felt the whole world change.”

He stopped and I stepped towards him, irresistibly drawn in by the way he looked at me. It gave me…so much hope. My chest was tight. I stopped, just short of touching him. “Felt the whole world change?”

“A figure of speech,” he said, his smile crinkling his eyes.

“I’m very aware,” I said, my breath gone shallow. “But I care deeply about the word ‘felt.’”

“You change…everything,” he said, not breaking eye contact.

I worried my lower lip, no longer able to meet his eye. His gaze was too intense. It burned me. I swallowed, gathering my courage. “Sweet talker,” I said, unable to resist the line, and, as he looked down, perhaps unsure what next to do, I knew what needed to happen. An image of me kissing him came to mind, and I could not resist it. I gently cupped his cheek, pulled his face inexorably towards me and kissed him. It was over so fast, but it was enough to feel how soft—yet firm—his lips were. Blushing, I let him go and turned, ready to flee, alarms sounding in my head, screaming at me for my idiocy.

But then his arms were around my waist, and he was pulling me back. Unable to resist, I turned towards him and he swept me off of my feet. His hips crashed into mine and I felt just how very wrong I had been when thinking he didn’t want me. And then his thigh was sliding between my own and he was leaning me backwards. I let out a soft moan as his mouth crashed against mine with a force that shocked me. His lips worked against my own, and then his tongue was sliding against mine and the ground trembled beneath me. He tasted _so_ good—like spice and the forest and pine. It was impossible to think; his hands were sliding down my back, and one planted itself firmly on my bottom. He squeezed, all the while grinding into me with his thigh. I was wet instantly, and my arms folded around him, trying to drag him closer.

He pulled back for air, and I blinked up at him, dizzy and confused. And then he was shaking his head, and kissing me again. His mouth was urgent, his teeth tugging at my lower lip. I gasped, and whispered his name as he began to trail kisses up my jawline. He tensed at that, and I knew that was when I lost him. He righted me and stepped back so quickly, his eyes a touch wide.

“I forgot, I—we shouldn’t. It isn’t right. Not even here.”

I swallowed and took a step towards him, needing to understand. “What, Solas? What’s wrong?”

Cupping my cheek, he ran his thumb along my jaw. He shook his head, and pressed his forehead against my own. “You need to wake up.”

And I did. I sat up abruptly, my heart racing. Fen stirred, grunting softly. She opened one eye, snorted, and went back to sleep. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and nearly sprinted down to where I knew Solas would be. I found him dozing still on the couch. He was waking, but slowly, and I hung back in the doorway, watching him, letting him fully waken before pouncing on him and demanding…something.

When he was fully sitting, his head in one of his hands, I walked in slowly, making sure my footfalls were loud. He didn’t look up, but I knew that he knew I was there. I sat beside him, not touching, and looked at him. When he finally glanced over at me, I smiled. He returned it, shaking his head.

“Sleep well?” he asked, leaning back on the couch. He was watching me with eyes that shimmered with heat, and it was hard not to respond.

“Well…” I folded my hands in my lap and cleared my throat. “Interesting.”

He laughed softly and nodded. “That it was, but I must apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered, and I should not have encouraged it.”

I scoffed slightly, mirroring his pose by leaning back. “Oh? Is that why you added the tongue?”

He startled. “I did no such thing.”

“Oooh, I see. It doesn’t count if it’s in the Fade.”

“I may have made…a miscalculation. It has been a long time, and things have always been easier in the Fade.” He ran his hands over his scalp, and sighed. “I am not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble.”

“I like trouble,” I said, resisting the temptation to scoot closer. Don’t push him too fast. “And I’m will to risk it, if you are.”

“I…” he looked up and met my eye. He held my gaze and I saw him visibly relax. “I may be, yes. If I could take a little time to think. There are…considerations.”

“Fen’Harel?” I asked. “I need you to know, I don’t plan on giving him up.”

“And I would never dream of asking you to,” he replied. “I understand whatever you two have is confined to the Fade, and that the relationship you seek from me would be something of a more…tangible nature.” He laughed again. “I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams.” He smiled and stood, offering his hand to me. “Come; the hour is still late, and you require sleep, and I should not be sleeping here, but in my room.”

I took his hand and let him help me up. We walked side by side, and I understood that he was making sure I went back to bed.

“How have you been eating?”

I shook my head. “I’m down to one stalk of elfroot a day. It’s all I can keep down.”

Solas paused outside the door leading to my chambers. He cupped my cheek, his gaze searching mine. “Take care. You feel healthy, and I can sense nothing wrong with you—no malnourishment or under-productivity of your body—and yet, I am still worried about this development. I will think on it. I’ve sent for some tomes and volumes from Orlais and Denerim. Perhaps I can glean something from their contents.”

I smiled at him and held his hand against my face. “Yes. Thank you, _lethallan_.”

His responding smile made me truly wish he was coming with me to bed. “You’re quite welcome, _falon_.”

Without further ado, he turned and walked off to his quarters. I watched him go, then sighed heavily and returned to my bed and Fen. Tomorrow…I would worry about this tomorrow. But for right now, even the mere possibility of garnering a relationship with Solas had me floating.

The moment I was back in the Fade, I found myself tied to a bed, blind-folded. I grinned. We had spoken about this the night before last.

“What a bright smile,” Fen’Harel purred. I felt the bed shift as he added his weight to it, and felt him grasp one of my ankles, slowly sliding his hand up my calf. “I looked for you earlier, but saw you were…occupied.”

“ _Ir abelas_ ,” I said quickly, trying to concentrate as his hands were nearing my thighs. “Solas had been avoiding me and…it won’t happen again. I belong to you here, when I am in the Fade.”

“With,” he said softly, and planted a kiss on my knee, making me shiver.

“Wh-what?”

“You don’t belong _to_ me—you belong _with_ me.” His tongue swirled against my skin.

I gasped, arching as much as I could. He gripped my thighs, and I could feel him lowering himself between my legs. I wasn’t about to argue with him. He trailed kisses along my inner thigh, and his fingers parted my labia gently. His breath was warm against my tender lips. “You’re already wet. I wonder—is this for me, or for the apostate?”

I was going to answer, but his tongue delicately tasted me, sampling me with the barest flick. I cried out, pulling on the restraints. He laughed softly, and it blew warm air against my clit. I moaned as he kissed me slowly, tenderly. His tongue ran up and down, then whorled over my clit, making every muscle in my body jump. I cried out, unable to see, only able to feel and hear. He continued working away at me, licking me and taking his time, long and slow, until I was fighting my restraints, begging for him to finish—to let me come. He laughed softly, taking pity on me as he slid a finger, then another, inside of me. They curled gently and began a soft but steady massage at just the right spot. He gave an open-mouth kiss to my clit and suckled on it so gently.

I came so hard that I screamed, my body thrashing, trying to wrap my legs around him, but unable. He didn’t stop until every aftershock that shook me, that made me clench, had subsided.

His weight shifted, and suddenly his hips were pressing into mine. His breath was hot on my throat as he dipped his head towards my ear to whisper, “Tell me how badly you want me.”

I was about to respond when a loud banging sound intruded and suddenly I was awake. Blearily, I blinked at the sunlight streaming in through my window and stumbled towards the door, someone continuing to pound. I opened the door, ready to glower anyone who dared disturb me into a pulp but was startled to see Varric.

“Varric? What’s—”

“She’s here. Hawke’s arrived.”

I blinked at him and nodded. “Let me change. I’ll meet you on the battlements.”

The dwarf nodded, casting me a half-smile. “Sorry to have woken you—I just figured we should meet before the Seeker finds out. She’s not going to be happy.”

“I understand,” I said. “I’ll be right out.”

I turned and darted back into my room to change, feeling frustrated and somewhat annoyed, but reminding myself that my duties came first. Fen’Harel and I would have tonight. Now, I needed to focus and bring myself up to speed on the threat that was Corypheus.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much smutty times. Whoo! Next chapter will forward the plot more, promise. I don't know why this one was so difficult to write... Writer's block is never fun. Okay, I hope you all enjoy. I apologize for the time it took to get it to you. I really do! My personal life has been a little scattered, and I've been traveling @_@ forgive me!


	14. A Visitor Hath Come

Varric was gone by the time I had exited the room. Ramparts, he had mentioned, hadn’t he? With a sigh, I glanced back at Fen who was happily sprawled out on the bed, one leg sticking up and twitching slightly, lost in dream. At least _someone_ was sleeping, I thought, only half grumpily as I trudged my way down the many steps and into the great hall. I had to put on a neutral face once I hit the public eye, which was harder than it should have been. I definitely did not feel like a morning person today. My thoughts kept straying back to Fen’Harel and the heat that had been building between us. Someone was smiling at me, another was wishing me a good morning, and yet another was staring at me in blatant and unmistakable awe. I walked a little faster.

The sunlight hit me like a splash of cold water to the face. Wincing, I held my hand up to dim the sun, forgetting for a moment the bright glow that emanated from it. With a groan, I switched hands and began to make my way forward. I passed a few of my party and made a mental note to stop and talk with them after I met Hawke. Sera seemed especially agitated. I’d have to calm her down, if I could. On my way to the steps up to the ramparts, I passed Cassandra who was wailing on a training dummy with particular force. Smiling slightly, I stopped to greet her.

She didn’t bother with preamble. Sweating and breathing hard, she launched straight past good-mornings and into, “Have you met this ‘friend’ of Varric’s, Inquisitor?”

I shook my head. “I’m on my way now.”

The warrior sheathed her sword and steepled her fingers so the tips just barely touched. “It had better not be who I think it is. I will wring that little bastard’s neck.”

My smile slipped slightly. Oh, how could I have forgotten? “O-oh? Who are you expecting?” I asked, having a feeling I knew the answer.

“Someone Varric claimed he could not contact,” she said, her gaze unwavering yet somehow I did not think she was seeing _me_ as she continued. “Someone the Inquisition—indeed, all of Thedas—desperately needed. I’ll reserve judgment,” she said, seeming to snap back to attention, “until I know for certain. No need to have that rogue screaming ‘persecution’ yet again.”

I nodded, backing away ever so slowly and wishing I had Fen there to touch and take comfort from. “Well, I’d better go.”

The dragon-slayer inclined her head. “Another time, then.”

I found Varric exactly where I expected to have found him. He was in good spirits, probably because his best friend was here after goodness knew how long apart. The sun was still rising up, and its light silhouetted the mountains that circled our keep, casting a warm, golden glow to the very air itself. I was just beginning to enjoy my surroundings when I heard the soft footfall behind me. I turned and there she was, descending the steps. Her eyes were piercing, older than the rest of her face, offset by the streak of what must have been blood across her nose and cheeks.

“Sun-Blossom,” Varric began, grinning, “meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Though I don’t use that title much anymore,” she said lightly as she walked up to me, her posture upright, a mage staff on her back.

Varric smiled and approached his friend. “Hawke, the Inquisitor. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corpheus.” Pregnant pause. “You and I did fight him, after all.”

Hawke’s eyebrows rose a notch and she looked out over the courtyard below. Sera was pacing in the shadows of one of the many towers; gross was growing, patchy and wayward, untamed and as-of-yet, untrampled. There was a mage I didn’t recognize making his way beneath us, and Hawke’s eyes flicked restlessly across the scene as she rested one elbow on the stone parapet, gazing down.

“This view reminds me of my home in Kirkwall,” she said, somewhat wistfully. “I had a balcony that overlooked the whole city.” She smiled, but I could tell there wasn’t only happiness at the memories. “I loved it at first. But after a while, all I could see were the people out there depending on me.”

I stepped up beside her, quiet, not wanting to intrude. “Go crazy thinking like that,” I said, looking from the battle-hardened woman beside me to Sera below, so restless. “And I’ve had enough madness for one lifetime.”

“How do you put it out of your head?” she asked, much more softly than I expected.

“Well,” I said, rocking back on my heels, “there’s enough out there trying to kill me that, usually, I’m too busy running for my life to focus on the hordes of people all clamoring after me.”

Hawke snorted, a smile once more splitting her face, the edges as sharp as her cheekbones. “Finding something that wanted to kill you always worked for me too, I suppose.”

“Speaking of,” I watched her, the smile slipping from my own lips as duty returned to my mind, “Varric mentioned that you’ve faced Corypheus before?”

“Fought and killed,” she corrected, turning to face me. “The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them.”

Varric stepped forward. “Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other.”

Hawke cursed and shook her head. “If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again.”

I ran my hands over my face. “So,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Corypheus has mages from Tevinter, templars infected with red lyrium, and—quite possibly—the Wardens as well.” I looked at my toes, then back up at Hawke. “ _Fenedhis_.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Hawke said, grinning, “but along the lines of ‘shite,’ I imagine. Don’t worry—I didn’t come this far just to give you bad news.” She cocked her head to the side, a strand of hair falling into her eyes. “I’ve got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. Last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.”

A friend in the Wardens…that rang little bells in my head, but I couldn’t say why. I tried to refocus on the problem at hand. “A demi-god Tevinter Magister certainly might qualify as corruption. Did this friend vanish?”

“No,” Hawke said, looking from Varric to myself. “He told me he’d be hiding in an old smuggler’s cave near Crestwood.”

I sighed a little, trying to smile at the woman before me. She had done so much for so many already, asking her to do more was almost unfair. “Well, I’ll take any lead I can get my hands on.”

“Good,” she replied, as if reading my mind, “I’ll do whatever I can to help.” Her expression changed, went from teasing and perhaps a touch sarcastic to deadly serious. “Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I’d killed him before. This time, I’ll make sure of it.”

I watched her, curious. The name Fenris kept running through my mind, but I pushed it aside. I knew, somehow, it wouldn’t do to speak of such things. “Where did you go after the mages rebelled?” I asked instead.

Hawke shrugged casually, though I immediately regretted the topic when her face closed off. “I heard the Chantry might be sending an Exalted March to Kirkwall to put down the rebellion. I hoped that leaving would save lives and force the Divine to divide her forces to come after me. As it turned out, I needn’t have bothered. All the Circles started rising up, and the Exalted March never came.”

“We’ll…talk later,” I said, knowing I had over-stepped my bounds.

“I’ll meet you at Crestwood,” she said, inclining her head respectfully. I turned and left Hawke and Varric. Just as I was closing the door behind me into the tower, I heard Varric begin to speak to his friend. I was tempted to stay and listen in, but it was none of my business. Why was I so concerned about Hawke’s life? Why did I care so much about the pain that seemed lodged deep in her eyes, even when she smiled? I didn’t know her. Her life was hers, not my problem. And yet…

I shook it off. I had other lives to worry about. Sera’s, for instance. She had seemed almost…distressed earlier, which was unusual for the roguish elf. I hurried down from the parapets to the open court below. There she was, pacing. She looked up when she sensed me heading for her, and I couldn’t interpret her smile. “So, Inquisitor. It’s Inquisitor now, right?” She didn’t give me time to answer. “Remember that war we talked about stopping? Full of little baddies I can stick with little arrows? That’s not a frigging Archdemon, is it!” She dipped her head, eyes a little wide. “Andraste, what’d I step in?”

“None of us were expecting Corypheus. He and his dragon were a bit of a surprise.”

“No,” she said, torn between disbelief and laughter, “a surprise would be, ‘Oh, I stepped in dog shite.’ No one says, ‘Oh, a Magister god monster. I’m surprised.’ Impossible things _aren’t_ surprises,” she said the last fiercely, meaning every word.

“He isn’t impossible,” I returned, trying to calm her. “Big, yes. Scary, yes. But very real.”

“Don’t get me started,” she said, then snorted. “Oh wait, too late, right? A magister who cracked the ‘Black City.’ It’s a hazy dream, right? I mean, if it’s _real_ real, then the seat of the Maker? Real thing.” She turned her head, looking away. I could tell these were things she had never wanted to consider. “A seat needs a butt, so the Maker? Real thing. Fairy stories about the start _and end_ of the world? Real things.” Her brow furrowed and she shook her head, blonde hair dimmed by shadows heavy around us. “It’s too far, innit? I just want to plug the skyhole rubbish so I can go play.”

“It _is_ too far,” I said, grabbing onto what she had said. “Don’t believe it so easily, Sera. I need people like you to question things. I need you to keep a level head when others get overwhelmed or carried away.”

“Oh, I can do that,” she said, a smile cracking through the darkness that had settled into the corners of her eyes. “Sure could use a few more people shouting ‘no.’ We fight, the bad things go away, everyone calms down, and everything goes back to normal.” She nodded to herself. “A nice, well-paid normal.”

“That sounds good to me, Sera.”

“Me? Sounding good?” she laughed. “Scary, innit?” She was smiling now, her confidence returning slightly. “So bring ‘em on! But first, food. I’m starving.”

“The tavern is almost set up, I think,” I said, nodding over to a building where Scout Harding was standing. “I think they’ll have just about anything you could want.”

“A serving maid made out of tits and taller than a Qunari?”

I blinked rapidly and snorted back a laugh of surprise. “Erm, well, anything within reason.”

“Bugger that,” she said, winked, and yet headed over towards the tavern. I shook my head, watching her go. Interesting woman, her. Unstable, to be sure, and she could be crass and judgmental, but there was a good heart in there. She wanted to help people who needed helping. I could get behind that.

My stomach growled and the surprise of feeling hunger shook me out of my thoughts. I placed a hand over my stomach only to realize it wasn’t _my_ hunger I was feeling, but Fen’s. She was awake and I could sense her anxiety at my absence and her hunger. I stopped on the kitchens on my way back to the room, picked up some raw meat to the shock and distaste of the cook, and nearly sprinted the last few steps through the great hall, skirting around someone who really wanted to wish me a good morning. I cast him a smile hastily and was through the door in a second.

I could feel Fen growing calm as I approached the door to my chambers, and then her excitement when I entered and she could smell the food. I set it down for her and went to stand on the balcony. I looked down at the mountains just beyond our walls. Snow lay like a mantle of blinding light upon the ground, and I wanted nothing more than to escape for a day or two, exploring those hills. How could I miss the nights of sleeping rough, surrounded by noise and people, as we made our way to Skyhold?

I missed sleeping beside Solas.

That was it. True, we never touched—we did not spoon or cuddle the way I truly wanted—but we had held hands through the nights, separated by only a foot or so of space, so that our breaths had mingled and warmed us each. I missed his presence, which was a strange sensation. I missed simply feeling him around me. I touched the necklace he had given me and felt my eyes sting. I blinked back tears and turned my back on the hills. There was much to do before we left for Crestwood, and I needed to see to my friends before I set out again. Fen looked up at me from where she had finished her meal, her ears perked.

“Come on, girl,” I said, heading towards the door. “It’s going to be a long day.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FORGIVE ME! I know it's short, but I finally...I was able to write again and I wanted you all to know that this fic has not been abandoned. Longer chapter to follow shortly, but I want you all to have this tonight. Life has been so...crazy lately. But hey, Prozac is amazing, and it is helping me to find motivation again. Thank you all for your patience. Fen is back and ready for adventure!
> 
> ALSO--Stroude or Alistair as Warden? Leave your vote in the comments!


	15. A Long Day

I rubbed at my temples as I closed the door to my chamber behind me. I had been so very right—it _had_ been a long day. And while I had started with Fen beside me, it had grown readily apparent that the many pilgrims gathered here did not respond well to her, so I had sent her back to our room. This was not a viable solution. She was a wolf, wild as the wind itself, and needed to roam. I would have to think of something. But not today. Today had been long enough.

First, I had spoken to Vivienne. She had, rightfully, reprimanded me about lingering at Haven. Yes, we had evacuated many, but it was a mistake to stay there. Period. It was not defensible. All true. She had urged me to immediate action—to not rest idly while the enemy recuperated. I had agreed, informed her of my plans to investigate a lead, and she had approved, wanted to come with me. When I had told her where it would take us, she had made a face of distaste, but did not back down. I would need another powerful mage with me, and she was right. I could always use her help.

And then there was Blackwall. While he was happy with our new location, he was far less happy with hesitation over the Andraste business. He wanted me to pretend, for the sake of the people. To give them hope. I had tried to explain how what he was asking me was to abandon _my_ people, to cast aside my beliefs and pretend. I didn’t add that it would be for the benefit of those who had maligned my kind for so long; I didn’t think it appropriate. Besides, these people were not the ones to persecute the Dalish. Yes, the random knife-ear was heard daily, directed not at me, but at those working under our banner. How could I explain that? How could I make him see? I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. And that bothered me.

I had chatted with Scout Harding briefly after that. She had told me Cassandra had come through, looking a right storm cloud, all frazzled energy and potential violence: lightning waiting to strike. With a sigh, I had known what I had to do. Breaking up the fight between her and Varric had been exhausting, emotionally and physically. Neither had left happy, merely willing to tolerate the other for the time being.

I had met with Cullen, and he had looked just as tired as I felt, which seemed almost a relief to me, as awful as that sounds. I wasn’t the only one suffering under the pressure. We had chatted briefly about our new position, about my acceptance of the title of Inquisitor, and I had moved on. Or tried to. But I had run into Cole very nearby. And Vivienne, Cassandra and Solas discussing the spirit boy. Loudly.

“That thing is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet. It has no business being here,” Vivienne said sternly, her chin held aloft, proud and confident, arms folded across her chest.

“Wouldn’t you say the same of an apostate?” Solas countered.

I approached cautiously, but immediately garnered Cassandra’s attention. If she was still upset about earlier, she masked it well. “Inquisitor, I wondered if Cole was perhaps a mage, given his unusual abilities.”

“He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him,” Solas interjected. “These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems that Cole is a spirit.”

“It is a demon,” Vivienne said, clearly tired of this discussion. I tried to see her point of view. To her, he was a demon. All spirits were. That was what the Chantry claimed to be true, and she had been saved by the Chantry—so why shouldn’t she believe it? That being considered, I could not let her fear dismiss such a valuable friend I just knew Cole would be.

“If you prefer,” Solas acquiesced, “although the truth is somewhat more complex.”

“If Cole hadn’t warned us about the coming forces at Haven, we might not be here to discuss this,” I put in cautiously.

Vivienne turned her disapproving gaze to me, and I felt it almost like a blow. “And what will its help cost? How many lives will this demon later claim?”

“In fact, his nature is not so easily defined.”

“Speak plainly, Solas,” Cassandra interjected. “What _are_ we dealing with?”

Solas’ posture was so erect, and he held his hands out, wanting to teach, a natural philosopher. “Demons normally enter this world by possessing something. In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous.”

“But you claim Cole looks like a young man,” Cassandra ventured. “Is it possession?”

“No,” Solas said, patient, calm. “He has possessed nothing and no one, and yet he appears human in all respects.” He turned to me and something in his eyes changed. Did they soften, or had they grown almost…hot? “Cole is unique, Inquisitor. More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so.” He hadn’t yet called me that. I imagined it was not to discomfort or distance me, but to remind the others of my position. My word would be the last on the matter.

I glanced at Vivienne. How could I allay her fears? “Normally, spirits have to possess someone or be summoned and bound, yes? What of Cole?”

“Normally, you would be correct,” he said with a slight incline of his head. “But Cole has willfully manifested in human form without possessing anyone.”

What would Vivienne say? I bit my lip before continuing. “Yet those demons who came through the Breach, they too weren’t possessing anything or one.”

“Those demons were drawn through the Veil against their will, driven mad by this world. But Cole predates the Breach. From what we can tell, he has lived here for months, perhaps years. He looks like a young man. For all intents and purposes, he _is_ a young man. It is remarkable.”

I did my best not to look at Vivienne, but I hoped she would take what I was about to say to heart. “So, if Cole has been here for months, and not driven mad as those other spirits-turned-demons were, the likelihood seems slim that he will?”

Solas’ eyebrows rose in surprise and he inclined his head, the barest trace of a smile curving those lips I fantasized about rather scandalously. “Indeed, I believe that to be the case, Inquisitor.”

“Well, let’s hear what Cole has to say,” I said, turning my attention back to the spirit boy. “Or…at least try to. Where’d he go?”

It took only a moment to find him. He was a few yards away, near some tents and a campfire, walking up some of the wounded.

“Haven,” he was saying. “So many soldiers fought to protect the others so they could escape. Choke fear, can’t think from the medicine, but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat.” He looked at the soldier lying prone below, one hand almost reaching out. “Hot white pain, everything burns. I can’t, I can’t, I’m going to…I’m dying, I’m…” A brief silence, then, lifelessly, “…dead.”

“That’s right,” I said softly, more to myself than him. “You can feel their suffering.”

“It’s louder this close, with so many of them.”

My heart twinged. “We can go further out—further away.”

“But here is where I can help,” he said simply. His head turned, caught by the stray thought of pain, drawn to it irresistibly as the tide. He began to walk, and I followed. “Every breath slower. Like lying in a warm bath. Sliding away. Smell of my daughter’s hair when I kiss her goodnight.” Another pause. “Gone.”

My heart felt like it was squeezing in my chest. Is this what heart break felt like? My eyes grew moist and I looked at the soldier who had just died. A face I might forget in the masses gathered here. I wished ardently that I had had Fen with me. Her fur brushing against me would have been a selfish comfort.

For a moment, Cole’s eyes flickered to me. “You feel it, too. You can’t hear them crying out, but the pain, it’s there—seeping, stark and cold, the darkness of the light of life leaving eyes, thick—hard to breathe—” He broke off abruptly, turning his head. “Cracked brown pain, dry, scraping. Thirsty.”

The boy knelt beside one of our soldiers. He pulled out his flask and held it to the lips of the dying woman. “Here.” After she had slaked her thirst, he spoke without looking up. “It’s all right. She won’t remember me.”

“Would it be so terrible if she did?”

He stood slowly, his head tilting my direction, but his eyes focused elsewhere. “I used to think I was a ghost. I didn’t know. I made mistakes…but I made friends, too. Then a templar proved I wasn’t real. I lost my friends. I lost everything.” His head dipped down. “I learned how to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help.”

“Helping is important. If you approve of the idea, I would like you to stay. I would like you to help here.”

“Yes, helping.” He turned partly, looking, already seeking his next wounded. “I help the hurt, the helpless, there’s someone…” He began walking, drawn by the pain. “Hurts, it hurts, it hurts, someone make it stop hurting, Maker please…”

The dagger was in his hand before I could see him draw it. My spine chilled. This was a pivotal moment.

As if sensing my discomfort, Cole paused. He turned slightly in my direction. “The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help.”

Help. _Help_. “Mercy,” I repeated, somewhat mindlessly. I was already moving. I passed Cole, touched his hand that held the dagger and pushed it away. I knelt by the soldier, looking at that ashen face, the skin loose around the eyes but tight at the mouth. So much pain. I could feel it. It was beating at me, pulsing in my hand. My left hand sparked green, the verdant color overtaking the lyrium blue glow as I reached towards him. I heard a shout, perhaps Solas, but I could not tell. I was focused. I brushed the soldier’s hair back, the flesh beneath my hand clammy and papery. Death was set in this person’s bones. I could feel it. Cole was right. It was imminent. Distantly, I knew I could heal this soldier the way I had healed Dorian’s friend, but I also knew it would further disturb the Breach—perhaps strengthen the tear, create chaos and allow demons into our sanctuary. I might die instead, with no tear to slip into. Mythal might not save me this time.

But I could _help_. The green in my hand flashed, flared around the dying scout, and it sank into their skin. I could feel it working. Sleep overtook them, peace settled their features, relaxing the grimace of their expression. Pain was a distant dream, overshadowed by the thoughts of loved ones, of hot pie on a cold night, shared with family and brightened by laughter. Joy.

I blinked, tears running down my cheeks as my senses returned. Cole was looking at me, and I felt truly looking at me for the first time. He nodded and said without preamble, “I want to stay.”

He hadn’t returned my smile, but he felt…warmer. “Do you see why we can’t kill them? We have to help in other ways.”

“I will…try,” he said. “I can’t do what you do. Your mark, it makes you…more.”

I nodded, looking down at my hand. “A gift as well as curse. I will use this for good as long as I can. I want to help too, Cole.”

He had smiled slightly, and backed up as the others approached. Explaining what had just happened had been…interesting. No, I hadn’t healed the soldier. Yes, I _knew_ ; the mark flared green again. I had helped them sleep—yes, I was sure that was all I had done. Could I do it to everyone? I was unsure, but didn’t think I could—not all at once. I was quite tired. Yes, I wanted to return to my chambers. Yes, I wanted to sleep.

But on the way back to my chambers, Iron Bull had snagged me. He had wanted to show me something. He then dressed me as an Inquisition soldier, and by the time we were finished with the costume, night had fallen. Soldiers and scouts were gathered around various camp fires. He told me to stay quiet, and so I had. We sat with two soldiers, one a veteran, one a novice here for adventure. I had learned a bit about those two soldiers, and I was grateful to the Iron Bull for taking me, but by the time I had returned to my room, it was almost dawn.

I sagged against the door, watching as Fen bolted up to me, excited, anxious, a bundle of energy. She had slept most of the day, and now needed to spend her energy. I groaned and ran fingers through my hair. Sleep would have to wait. I had to take her out. She had to use that leg, if nothing else.

I looked over at Fen, exhaustion sinking from my muscles into my bones and then into my internal organs. Everything felt tired. Fen, on the other hand, was restless, pacing back and forth in my room. I could feel her anxiety through my waves of fatigue. She needed to run. She was not meant to stay indoors. She was wild, and needed to be wild. If I closed my eyes, it was almost as if I could feel _my_ legs pacing across the floor, my nails making quiet click clacks against the hard surface. Everything in here was too hard or too soft. It didn’t feel like earth or snow or the long grass I loved to roll in. There were no natural smells in here. Everything was dust and varnish and rust and it was driving me mad. I needed to smell the air; I needed to smell the bustle of life. I needed it to run through my veins as I plowed through the snow, seeking, hunting, running, running, _running_.

My eyes flew open. Fen’s gaze met and held mine. There was no challenge there, as there might have been with another canine. Instead, it was as if I looked into a mirror and saw nothing but desperation. My exhaustion was gone. I was shaking with adrenaline. I needed to purge it. _We_ needed to purge. I knew what had to be done.

 

I didn’t care about the stares and whispers, the gasps and muffled surprise. I didn’t care that the opinion of the visiting Orlesians might be lost. Fen and I walked side by side, our pace fast and determined. We knew what we were about. As we approached the gates, a scout attempted to engage me.

“Excuse me, Inquisitor?”

My response took longer than she had anticipated. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the words, and certainly I didn’t apply that title to myself. A long, slow blink and finally I was able to see the face behind the cowl, to focus from the soft scent of lavender oil on the skin of her hands to the words that had come from her mouth. Another blink. Clearing of the throat.

“Ah, yes?”

Her expression quickly smoothed from confusion into the blank, unreadable mask that many of Leliana’s people wore. “I do not mean to presume, but do you need a…companion? It is after sundown.” At my lack of response, she continued: “Perhaps I can fetch you a weapon? A staff?”

All at once, I understood. She was worried that I was leaving the safety of Skyhold and entering the frozen wilds alone and at night. I was very much an important figure now, more so than before, and needed to stay safe. All the same…

“No,” I replied. “We just need to run.”

“Aha,” she said, her gaze flicking from me to the wolf, so fast that had my senses not been heightened, I might have missed it. “I see.” She nodded and stepped back, much to my relief. A strange sensation was overtaking me. My skin was prickling, electricity racing through my muscles. I felt almost as if I would be ill. I had to run. I had to run. I had to.

Run.

I almost pushed past the scout before she had time to fully back out of my path. Fen was breathing hard before we even reached the end of the bridge; I could feel the strain in her, the restraint, as if it were my own. Perhaps it was. The line between her mind and my own was diminishing by the second. And suddenly, it didn’t matter that we were not out of eyeline of the soldiers and patrols guarding the entrance to our castle-like fortification. Nothing mattered but the run.

Fen broke free first, yet I was barely half a step behind her. She was a blur, lost to the snow, and my footfalls were right beside her. The cold air was a welcome shock to our systems. It helped to clear away the cobwebs of anxiety that were trying to stick to our limbs. It focused that energy instead, added a burst to our speed and kept our mind sharp. Our legs moved in unison, and we felt a fierce and terrible joy as the snow crunched beneath our feet softly, the wind whipped through our hair and fur, stung our skin and made one set of our eyes water.

We ran. We ran until our lungs were frozen yet filled with burning fire, until the cramping was too great to overcome and we collapsed in a heap. Something was happening. We could feel magic paint the air with colors we had never seen before. The wind was howling as if it was our pack, surrounding us, supporting us, pulling us further into the wilds. The magic built and built, and our hand was liquid heat that seared through the snow, leaving nothing but vapor and light; light so bright we couldn’t see; it flashed, surrounded us, burned through our flesh until there was nothing left but sensation, pure sensation, and then we were running again, passion and electricity renewed, two more legs joining our sprint, our body new yet the same as before, the same it had always been. Fur covered us, created a new sensation as the wind blew all around us, buffeting us, pushing us, joining us.

We ran. We reached the summit of a foothill. We howled. We were one. Her mind was my mind, and her body was my body. It was only when the scent of a fennec crossed our paths that our minds began to diverge. She had to hunt. She had to run, to chase it down and to eat the still-warm flesh, so full of life, pumping energy and blood and puss and bile, tasting everything, feeling it fuel her.

The moment the desire became overwhelming to her was the moment when our union shattered. My body might have been that of a wolf, yet my stomach still rejected the idea of food—especially living tissue. If there had been anything in my gut, it would have ended up on the snow in a pile of vitriol and stomach acid. The severing of our minds was sudden and violent, and we both found ourselves stumbling, suddenly unique and whole and completely absolutely halved at the same time. Empty was not the right word, especially because we were still connected; I could still feel her hunger beating at her like an inescapable thought, the tune of a song that would not leave us alone. It was more a loneliness; a separation. It was a veil cast between us, able to be seen through, not extinguishing touch, but muting it slightly.

After the initial severing, once we had both regained our footing, she looked to me. Could she hunt? Was she allowed? I nodded. She felt my acceptance, the way I could rejoice for her without partaking myself. Elated, she was gone in the space of a single heartbeat, and I was left alone, allowed now to take in my new state of being.

On some level, I was aware that this had always been a possibility. Mages were able to take the form of other animals, but only with the proper training, or at least trial and error, repeated practice that would eventually lead to success. And yet, here I stood, a four-legged creature, not even needing to adjust to the idea of an extra set of legs. I was a wolf, and it was the most natural thing. I couldn’t even really remember the transition. There had been light, energy, and then we had simply been running again.

I took a few steps in the direction Fen had gone. I could still feel her, though the connection between us was distant. If I focused, I could find her. I reached out with my mind, linking to her. Her jaws were closing over the windpipe of the fennec; her teeth were tearing through its flesh. I severed our connection quickly, staggering from the taste of blood and flesh on my tongue. Trying to clean my palette, I scooped up a bite of snow and ate it choppily, trying to focus on the cold, the fresh taste of clean water trickling down my throat.

Once the taste was purged, I was able to again enjoy my surroundings. Everything felt so…right out here. I had missed this. There was only one thing that I was lacking—a den. I began to dig without hesitation. I burrowed myself beneath the safety and warmth of the snow, confident that Fen would find and join me once she was done feeding.

Unexpectedly, she wasn’t the first to join me. His footfalls were almost silent as he approached me, and had the wind been blowing in a more favorable direction, I might not have smelled him coming. His scent was impossible to mistake: a mixture of the worn leather of old books; the fresh, pungent scent of newly cut elfroot; and a heady combination of spices mixed with that very distinctly masculine scent that was impossible to define. For a moment, in my excitement, I forgot my newfound state, and eagerly poked my head out of the den I had dug, ears perked, eyes seeking through the gentle fall of snow. When it occurred to me that I was, in fact, a wolf, no longer an elf, I was more ashamed of the smear of dirt on my paws and muzzle than worried that he might be alarmed at my transformation. I should have realized that neither would surprise him.

“My friend,” he said in greeting when his gaze lighted upon me. “Your advisors worried over your mysterious disappearance, especially once Leliana’s spies lost sight of you and your companion. I have been sent to find and retrieve you.” He inclined his head, apologizing for the disturbance.

I let out a soft whine and retreated a step into my burrow. Fen appeared to Solas’ left, and, without hesitation, slid in past me, curling up, her body flush with heat and energy from her feast. She yawned, nuzzled into her front paws, ready for sleep, yet kept one eye open, gazing at the entrance to our little home. She stared for a few moments, gauging the situation, then succumbed to sleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically as her heart rate slowed.

“I understand,” he said softly, stepping towards me and kneeling down to be at my level.

I believed him. Out of everyone, I knew he would be the only one to be able to empathize with my desire to stay in the wilds, to feel at once at home and out of place in the Inquisition. I let out a soft snort and looked away. Distantly, I knew I had responsibilities. I knew that I could not stay here, and that it was selfish to run from stress and those who would hold me accountable for my actions. And yet…

His hand running through the thick coarseness of my fur pulled me from my thoughts. I blinked up at him, instinctually leaning into his touch. “I know what it is to desire living in a different world,” he said, his voice so soft, so melodic. I could listen to it for hours happily. “And yet we both cannot. Yours is a burden you did not choose, and yet it is still yours to bear. Come, lethallan. We both must return.”

I heaved a sigh and nodded. At first, I was unsure how I would make the transformation back, but even holding the simple desire to be elven again was enough. A flash of light and I was my old self again. I looked up at Solas from my position on the ground, his hand still buried in my hair. The energy between us suddenly and drastically changed. The light in his eyes that burned brightly with intelligence all at once became the heat of desire. I felt myself respond to that look, my body leaning up towards his. Yet all at once, his hand was gone from my hair, and he was several feet away from me. He stood, spine rigid, his face closed down yet pleasant. He outstretched his hand to me.

“Come, lethallan.”

My heart dropped. I wanted him to disappear with me into the burrow, to curl up with me and to share our body heat. Yet that was no longer an option. I sighed and looked back at Fen. I woke her with a gentle nudge, and she knew without communication that it was time to go. She whined, crying softly, but came without much fuss when I crawled out from our den. I stepped up to Solas, respected the distance he placed between us, yet I had to breach it somehow. And so I held out my hand to him, simple enough, but the gesture held an unspoken weight.

He regarded me a moment, and then, with perhaps a hint of hesitation, he slid his palm against my own. Our fingers twined and we began our journey back to Skyhold in silence, my wolf and my friend by my side.

 

No scout, aside from the two guarding the gate, was visible, and yet I knew without doubt that my return was being reported to Leliana. Solas walked me to my room, but because the hall was empty, I stopped him when he attempted to pull away. I tugged him back, his expression one of surprise, and stood on tiptoe to quickly brush my lips against his. I know he had said to give him time, but I felt almost drunk on magic. I couldn’t let the moment pass. The moment our lips touched, a jolt ran through us both. My feet sank to the ground as I attempted to break the kiss and flee, much as I had when we met in the Fade, yet his mouth followed mine. His hands spanned my waist, drew me closer as his tongue parted my lips. One of us made a small, feral noise, and I couldn’t for the life of me say who it was.

I groped blindly behind me, seeking the handle for the door, and it gave way with a sudden burst that had us stumbling backwards. Solas caught me, and we were both laughing, pressed together, breathless, and I could feel exactly how eager he was for me. Fen slipped past us, ignoring our escapades, choosing instead to curl up out on the balcony where she could sleep in the fresh air.

“Is this all right?” I asked, still a little winded, and not from the stumble. Our eyes locked, and once again, I could feel the heat sinking into me from his gaze. I felt weak and suddenly wanted nothing more than to be on my back, the bed beneath me, Solas above me. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing along my jawline and then the curve of my lips.

“It would be ill-considered,” he said, his voice a touch more hoarse, perhaps, than before. “And yet…”

“And yet,” I agreed.

His smile was quick and fierce. The door closed behind him decidedly. How we made it through the hallway and into my room, then onto the bed, I couldn’t have said. But we did.

It turned out that I wasn’t nearly as tired as I had thought I was.

Judging by the look in his eye, I had expected a passion that would border on animalistic. I had thought he might tear my clothes from me, have the same sense of urgency that Fen’Harel had when we were intimate. But Solas…no, Solas was different, which surprised me. We had landed on the bed, kissing and clothed and writhing against each other, but when I had gone to loosen the strings of his trousers, his hands had stilled mine. Gently, reverently, he then took his time kissing across my jaw, down my neck until he reached the base.

He unbuttoned one button.

He kissed the exposed skin there, tasted it.

Another button.

Over and over, he would savor my skin, lay kiss upon kiss onto the flesh he exposed so very slowly, and then take his time popping the next button from its hole. By the time my breasts were bared, I was nearly mad with desire. The juncture of my legs was slick, and despite my protests, the way I rolled my hips and begged, he would not go faster. He took such time undressing me, such care, gazed upon me in such awe—I had never felt more beautiful or alluring.

My hands were clumsier than his, and I could not savor the moment the way he could, as if he had waited a thousand years for this very moment. Time. Time was precious. Dawn was creeping upon us and I feared that with its light, the magic we were caught in might dissolve—dissipate like the memory of that stolen kiss in the throne room. But then his mouth was on mine, hot and wet and demanding, and I was being pressed ever so tenderly back into the mattress beneath us. He broke away when my tongue wrapped around his, dipped his head towards my clavicle, then began to trail lower.

I caught his face between my hands, raised his gaze until it locked to mine. “Please,” I said, my voice so soft, so urgent, despite my best effort to keep it even. “Please. Now.”

He understood. He settled himself between my legs, held them down and apart as his hips pressed into me. Slowly, so slowly, he angled himself inside me. His head parted my eager folds, and I could feel it stretching me, even as he held me down in the most accommodating angle. Only once he was fully inside did he release my legs, our hips settled together, our sexes joined. I pulled him closer with those legs, wrapped them as tightly as I could around his waist. My hips were impatient, and soon I found myself rocking them up and down, urging him to start moving. His breathing hitched, his mouth tickling my earlobe as he began a languid, yet very determined rhythm.

Our bodies moved together in perfect symphony, slow, steady, yet I had never felt anything so intense. I was the ocean and he was the tide, urging me forward, pushing me closer and closer, pulling my further and further out until I was shattering around him, my nails digging into the skin of his back, trying to get him closer, _closer_ , the only thing I could think of as pleasure made me shake and tremble and clench beneath him.

It was almost cruel when he didn’t stop. He continued surging forward, his stiff length unrelenting, unceasing. It wasn’t until I climaxed again, my body now sensitive beyond belief that, with a gasp of breath that sounded almost as if he was surprised, he pushed himself as deep as he could and filled me with his seed. The sensation of his twitching erection so deep inside me, spurting his own orgasm into me was too much—it pushed me into a third orgasm, my hips jolting so badly that he was almost knocked off of me.

Sweating lightly and breathing hard, we clung to each other, our limbs entwined. My head nestled against his chest, one of his arms draped around me protectively.

“ _Ma serannas,_ ” I whispered, already feeling sleep claim me. If I hadn’t known better, I might have said he tensed slightly at that. The last thing I recalled was his lips brushing against the top of my head, and what could have been tears wetting my hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (wheezes) THAT TOOK LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD. I am so sorry! Life has been...interesting. Planning a wedding in like three months is really hard. ANYWAY  
> Okay okay okay, let's clarify.
> 
> Don't worry about people getting left in the Fade. I said this was going to be a happy story, and I meant it! We are going with Alistair, now the only question is: was the Warden female or male, and whom did (s)he romance? Alistair or...? 
> 
> Okay! Enjoy! Love you all!


End file.
